Metamorphosis
by SugarQuill12
Summary: What's a boy to do, trapped in a depressing house with people he hates, not to mention a bushy brown haired witch who seems to make him want to do crazy, crazy things? Draco Malfoy's summer is far more interesting than my own. FIN!
1. Chapter 1

K then, here I am with my first story. Generally, I don't read this particular ship, as stories often lack a plot based on anything other than sex appeal, but then I finally read a good one, and I thought, hey, what's not worth trying? (Just in case you're interested, the story was called A Room of Their Own or something like that. Look it up. I promise it's worth it.)

ANYHOO, as my friend Leon would say, without further delay, may I present:

**Metamorphosis: A Story of Maturing **

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* * *

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_Dear Mr. Malfoy._

_Due to your unwavering loyalty and your pure blood and heritage, the Dark Lord has decided that the time has come for you to receive your mark of loyal subservience to our great master. You are to meet your guide at the abandoned manor at the south end of Hogsmead, at 1.30 a.m., on the evening of the last day of school, two weeks from now. No excuses will be tolerated._

_Pettigrew

* * *

_

The edges of the parchment were rather worn, as Draco Malfoy had been re-reading this note for over a week now. He had known it was coming, because his father had explained it to him before he had left for Hogwarts that year, but that didn't mean anything now.

_"Do not be surprised, Draco, if you should receive a summons this year. And do not dare to disobey it; I have worked far too hard to raise the Dark Lord's opinion of you, for you to throw this away."_ And Draco had laughed. The thought of disobeying Lord Voldemort's wishes was ridiculous to him. For his entire life, he had been groomed for the event of the Dark Lord's return, should it ever come. He knew his duties, and he would be loyal and dedicated only to him.

_This was the path of greatness_, his father had said to him. _This was how to attain power._ And Draco wanted power. With power, one could achieve happiness. But now, for the first time in his life, Draco was conflicted. His father was rotting in Azkaban right now, having stupidly been caught that night at the ministry. Of course, Draco had no doubt that the Dark Lord would soon free him, but he also knew that his father would only have been taken from one hell to another, one which was just as bad. His father had failed that night, and the Dark Lord did not appreciate just good effort on his Death Eaters' part. Success was always mandatory.

Draco had been sorted into Slytherin. He did thirst for power, and he did have great ambition, just as a good Slytherin would. But he wondered, and glanced back at the letter. _Subservience_.

Draco was also rather intelligent, he preferred to think. Subservience isn't power. Draco was sure of only one thing in his life now. Draco did not want to be a slave to a cruel master; it also went against his grain to disobey his father and his ideas. He kicked the gargoyle statue he was passing in a fit of frustration. The sting of the impact barely made a dent in his thoughts.

'This is so stupid,' he growled. Unbidden, thoughts of the career orientation conference he had had with his potions professor and Professor Umbridge months ago whispered in his head, "Draco, you have a great potential in the Ministry, as you have a great sense of _justice._" He had given Draco a very meaningful look there. "I have faith that you will chose a good profession for yourself, wherever it may be."

'I have always been sure this was right for me,' Draco argued with himself. 'Always. And Snape has always known I would be a Death Eater, so what was he playing at? It's not like he could possibly encourage another profession. More than likely, he was putting on a show for that toad who insists on walking on two legs.' Lashing out in anger, he hit the wall with his fist and screamed out loud.

"DAMN IT ALL! All my life, I've been so sure what I want. And here it is!" He waved the letter around, as if he was explaining his predicament to someone. "Right here! I have it in my hands!" His tone was a little bit desperate now, and he began speaking directly to a portrait of a knight, starting to wake him up. Draco didn't seem to care, as he was getting rather worked up. "And I don't want it. In fact, I can think of nothing else which I would possibly despise doing more than this!" He threw the letter down on the ground and stomped on it. He glared at the knight, who had just rolled over and gone back to sleep, mumbling something incoherent about carrots and something else Draco was sure he misheard, as if this whole situation was his fault. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard an all too familiar voice speaking quietly from behind him.

"That can sometimes be the case, Mr. Malfoy. You can spend your whole life thinking one thing, and then something changes and you realize you have been absolutely wrong about it all this time. You are so sure that you are doing the right thing, and then, all of a sudden, your confidence is out the window, and you have got nothing which you can depend on, and everything you were sure of is gone. Why don't you come into my office, and we can talk for a while."

Draco Malfoy slowly turned around, and met the crystal blue eyes of Professor Dumbledore, who was holding the letter in his hand, having picked it up off the floor. Dumbledore turned, and stepped on the revolving staircase that had appeared where the gargoyle had been, and Draco stepped hesitantly up behind him, feeling as if he really couldn't have said no if he wanted to. He had a very strange feeling at the pit of his stomach which he refused to call nervousness, and couldn't help but feel as if he was a lamb being led to the slaughter, despite Dumbledore's calm demeanor.

* * *

P.S. Standard disclaimers apply. 

P.P.S. Please review. I'd really, really, really love it. And yes, I know this chapter is a touch short, I'll work on that. And if you're curious, the next chapter should be up sometime after next week, as I'm going to be out of town.

P.P.P.S. Some of you may remember reading a story a lot like this from somewhere else. It is the same story, and the same author, but I got totally upended when my computer blew up. So...here I am restarting everything. Everything has been re-edited as well, and if anyone knows a good beta-reader, I would love it if they could contact me. Thanks, and please review.


	2. Chapter 2

**Metamorphosis: A Story of Maturing**  
Chapter 2: In which Draco makes the smartest decision of his life, and Remus Lupin gets pushed around by a redhead with an attitude.

* * *

Draco knew he was about to be punished. Expelled. Maybe even sent to Azkaban. He was really in trouble this time; the evidence was irrefutable and Dumbledore had always been looking for a reason to bring the Malfoy family down.

Dumbledore was peering at Draco rather than the letter that was on his desk. Draco felt rather exposed under his gaze, and found it difficult to sit still; fidgeting uneasily and letting his eyes wander around the surprisingly messy office of the Hogwarts' Headmaster.

Although he had never been to this office before, he had a feeling that it had been rather hastily pieced back together from an occasion similar to a bomb detonation. Whether this impression was from the fact that all save one of the portraits on the wall were crooked, or that there were still pieced of glass embedded in the carpet beside the bookshelf to the right, he didn't know.

His eyes traveled to the floor, desperately trying to avoid meeting the professor's eyes. He could see some un-identified brownish stains on the carpet, just beneath his chair. 'You would think the Headmaster at least would keep his own office clean…'

He chanced a look at the silent professor, but immediately looked down when he met his eyes. They sat in an awkward silence for several minutes.

Dumbledore let out a soft breath which echoed like a shout in the quite room. Draco visibly flinched.

"Well, Mr. Malfoy. What am I to make of this letter?"

Draco did not respond. He thought it was blatantly obvious what the letter meant.

"Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore's voice was not impatient. "I must ask you to explain this from your perspective." Draco looked up and glared, making brief eye contact with the professor. "Tell me, Draco."

"You know perfectly well what the letter means," he spat out. Dumbledore leaned back in his seat, not at all defeated by his animosity. "I'm sure you knew I would be getting one, as well. _Omniscient Dumbledore,_ they say, he who sees everything. I'm sure you know all about my misgivings and—" He cut himself off abruptly, and slid back down in his seat.

That last bit had slipped past unintentionally. Draco had no misgivings.

"I am quite sure I know what the letter says, Mr. Malfoy. What I am asking you is, what does it mean to you?"

'A total loss of free will,' thought Draco. But he said nothing. Dumbledore didn't seem to be deterred. In fact, he seemed to just be getting started "Do you think it means you will be powerful? Or will you lose yourself to something you have no control over?" Draco wondered if Dumbledore could read minds.

"It's all very easy for you to say," Draco said. "There is no letter for you, no certain threat of death no matter what you chose. If I chose my father and Lord Voldemort," He checked to see if Dumbledore flinched; he didn't, "then I lose all free will, and possibly freedom as well, I know you'll send me to Azkaban. You would, I'm sure, in a second. And if I chose _not_ to follow my orders, I'll be dead as soon as I step off the train on the way back home. Possibly even before that." Draco was aware, in some part of his mind that he was now standing and shouting, though he wasn't sure how this had come to be. He hadn't even realized himself how strongly he was considering stepping away from the Dark Lord.

"That may not be true."

"Who do you think you're fooling?" Draco roared at him, "If I don't show up for this initiation, Pettigrew will tell Him that I've deflected, and there will be an ambush waiting for me the second I am within range of a curse. In fact, it might not wait until after the term is over, as some of my house mates are far surer of their loyalties than I am. It's one death or the other, and to me, neither seems any less terrible. And it's not like you know how I feel. Don't pretend that you know what I think. You don't know what's going on in my head. You don't understand what I'm going through."

Dumbledore was painfully aware that this was the second time in a week that he had a student of his in his office, with emotions running high and so much at stake.

"Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore's tone had become slightly clipped. "I am sure you know that you are speaking rubbish. As you are most likely well aware, I, and the majority of your teachers, live in the centre of this war. I do not pretend to think that you will see reason here; only that I might help fight for yourself. If you will open your eyes, Mr. Malfoy, I think you will find that you are not the only one who is in danger."

Draco felt very small. If he had had a tail, he thought, it was definitely stepped on now. Dumbledore put his hands on his desk, and leaned forward across the surface.

"Mr. Malfoy, no matter what, I will give you protection from Voldemort and his Death Eaters, where I can hide you, your father will never find you. If you chose not to go with those who kill, I can take you to those who will keep you safe. I have a place for you; I can save you from this." His voice was lowered to a fierce whisper. "I can help you. Please, let me help you."

"I'm not going to fight for you, old man." Draco said. "Your manipulations will never force me to fight against what I think is right."

"Draco…" Dumbledore was grasping at straws. "I don't ask you to fight for me. This is a chance for you to fight not for me, not for Voldemort, not for your father, not for what you think you ought to. This is a chance to fight for _you_. This is your _last_ chance." His voice was barely a whisper now, but it was filled with the same resolve as a shout.

Dumbledore held Draco's gaze in a pregnant pause, until Draco let his eyes drop.

"Where can you hide me?"

Professor Dumbledore's back straightened from leaning over the desk, and his face looked thirty years younger. "There are many choices where I might hide you. I could keep you here at Hogwarts for the summer, though I think you would be awfully lonely. The same goes for my house in Bristol. I could send you to my brother Aberforth's, but I think he might prove a bit eccentric for you. Professor Snape would also, I'm sure, considering the circumstances, be happy to allow you into his home. However, I believe the safest place for you, if certain parties do not object, would be Headquarters." His eyes began to twinkle.

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy, I think you will be spending your summer at Grimmauld Place." Dumbledore pulled out a sheaf of parchment and a quill, and caught Draco's eye, smiling in a manner which reminded Draco of the time when he had caught one of the Weasley twins eyes after they had turned his hair pink after his first Quidditch match. It made him rather uneasy. "Does that seem alright to you?"

Draco nodded. "Sir, maybe I ought to go to bed now." As Dumbledore allowed him to leave, he had the inexplicable urge to check his reflection in the mirror. Strangely, he was not at all comforted by the fact that his hair was still the same silvery blond.

Meanwhile, back in his office, Dumbledore finished up his letter. He smoothed his beard down and tied the letter to Fawkes' leg, firmly reminding the bird that _no one_ was to intercept this letter. As the phoenix disappeared in a burst of flames, Dumbledore couldn't help but smile. _This should be an interesting summer, _he thought, _an interesting summer indeed.

* * *

_

Remus Lupin had not been asleep when Fawkes had arrived.

Sleep was far too dangerous for him now; nightmares plagued him and tears offered him no comfort from his loss. He knew Harry was suffering more, with the consecutive loss of any parental figure, but it didn't dull the pain of losing the last person whom you could really count as a friend.

So, when Fawkes arrived at 1:30 in the morning, he wasn't nearly as irritated with the bird as he could have been. He shuffled out of bed, not bothering with his worn slippers, and drowsily took the letter. Rubbing his eyes, he almost dropped the letter when he read it:

* * *

_Dear Remus,_

_Since the death Sirius Black, possession of Grimmauld Place has been passed to you, as specified in his will. Therefore, I find it only fitting to ask your permission before promising a certain someone sanctuary there. This evening I was awoken by a shout of indignation from the gargoyle that guards my office, apparently, it had been kicked quite hard. When I went down to the hall, you can't imagine how surprised I was to see Draco Malfoy._

_After conversing for several minutes, I learned that Draco had been ordered to meet Pettigrew at a certain place in order to be fully initiated into Voldemort's service. He was having second thoughts, and I have managed to convince him not to go. It is a great relief to have perhaps done something right in these last few days. Draco, however, seeks protection from his father this summer, and I could think of no safer place than Headquarters. If you do no object, then I would like to bring Mr. Malfoy there in about a week. If you do not wish to give this protection, then I am sure that other resources may be sought after, but I can think of no place safer than HQ._

_If you have no objections, then please owl me back as soon as possible; if you do have objections, do the same. I apologize for the inconvenient hour, but this must be dealt with as soon as possible. _

_-Albus

* * *

Remus was in shock. __That _Stupid Malfoy? _The Pratt?_ There was no way he would let that _scum_ into his home for the summer. Remus slammed the note on his bedside table, and retuned to his bed. He was thoroughly put out by Dumbledore, even if he hadn't been sleeping, and felt that his _holiness_ could wait until morning. Eventually, Remus drifted off to a fitful sleep, with dreams of sweeping black veils and screams of terror.

But Remus had reckoned his resolve against Dumbledore without one important factor; When he had stumbled downstairs the next morning to the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, he had sleepily nodded as Molly Weasley bustled up stairs telling him that she would be turning his sheets that day.

Finding his vigor in the bottom of a cup of coffee, he drew himself out of his sleepless stupor just in time to hear Mrs. Weasley shriek.

"REMUS LUPIN! YOU DIDN'T TELL ME I WOULD NEED TO PREPARE FOR ANOTHER BOY THIS SUMMER! WHAT am I supposed to do? We have a week to prepare for him, and I haven't even got a set of sheets!" Remus was confused, until he saw Molly standing at the top of the stairs, waving Dumbledore's letter in her hand. He groaned.

"Molly, you didn't read that letter, did you?" His voice was hopeless.

"Of course I did, Remus, dear. I'm not really looking forward to the little rat's being here, but if he needs a safe place then I understand." Molly's maternal instincts kicked in. She would protect any defenseless child that came her way.

"Molly, I wasn't really planning on—"

"And we need to see if the other boys will room with him. I daresay we don't have enough rooms for them all to be by themselves, so Ron will just have to deal with it." She continued on to herself.

And so the matter of where Draco Malfoy would be spending the summer was decided, much to the chagrin of Remus Lupin, who, recognizing defeat, walked upstairs to write a letter to Dumbledore and a letter to Harry. _Oh dear_, thought Lupin, _Harry wasn't going to be pleased about this.

* * *

_

Well, how d'ya like that? I'd like to think that actually turned out well. : )  
Don't get spoiled by the speedy update, please, I'm going out of town in a few days, and there shouldn't be any more updates till like the 20th. Or maybe later depending on how everything goes. But this chapter is a bit longer to make up for it, so...sorry in advance.

Please Review! It seriously makes my day, and it only takes a few seconds.


	3. Chapter 3

**Metamorphosis: A story of Maturing  
Chapter 3: The Beginning of Summer**

* * *

Lucius Malfoy was not used to being stood up. In fact, to his recent memory, it had not happened in at least 20 years. He had not been kept waiting by anyone since the Dark Lord had given him a position of respect among the Death Eaters, and no one in the Ministry had dared to keep him waiting since he had placed their bumbling minister of magic in his pocket. But, he supposed, if anyone had the gall to keep him waiting, it would be Lord Voldemort. 

Not that he was too impatient to be rescued from Azkaban. Lucius actually dreaded his pending breakout almost as much as he dreaded the idea of a trip to the Veil, which might await him if the ministry ever got around to formally trying him.

But he was still loyal to his lord and master, and he knew that after his punishment, he would still be close to him and have the pleasure of eradicating the slime that was slowly permeating the magical world: mudblood-filth.

After he faced his turn at the master's Cruciatus, then he would be happy again. And Lucius Malfoy would not rot in Azkaban for much longer.

* * *

Hermione Granger had never been so worried about anyone in her entire life. She had known Harry for five years now, and she had never seen him so dejected. She was so worried about him, in fact, that upon arriving at her home, she did _not_ immediately set out her summer homework. 

No, instead she quickly pulled out a pen and parchment and wrote a letter to Dumbledore. Maybe he would know what was bothering him, other than the obvious, that was.

She thought hard about wanting to send the letter, and, true to form, Fawkes appeared in a colorful plume of flames and accepted the letter from her. Hermione smiled; she loved phoenixes.

Conversation over dinner was unusually strained. Her parents were honestly interested in what her school year had been like, and for the first time barring the time travel incident in her third year, Hermione found herself being less than honest with them. How was she supposed to say that she had faced death? Hi Mom, nice to see you, yeah, my school year was great, had fun, studied hard, battled some of the most evil wizards in the world in a secret place under the Ministry of Magic, you know, the usual. And how was your year? And what was she supposed to say about Sirius? None of this was dinner conversation.

When she and her mother were cleaning up the dishes, her father left to visit his study. He came back carrying an envelope with a broken blank seal. He handed it to Hermione, who wiped her hands before taking it.

What she read did not shock her as much as it should have. She knew Voldemort might be after her, and maybe even her parents too. But even if the letter didn't shock her, it still upset her. She looked at her father, who said,

"Dumbledore suggested 'evasive maneuvers', or something like that. We were thinking Majorca. And you could go back to that place…"

"Yes, that would be fine. I suppose…" Hermione was finding it hard to focus. She was very sleepy, she realized. "You mean you aren't mad that I didn't tell you about all of this?"

Mrs. Granger looked at her daughter sadly. "Of course not, darling. We're so proud of you. You've shouldered a heavy burden and shown yourself to be well able to do it. We understand."

"Oh, mum." Hermione fell into her arms. "Mum, I've been so upset." She started crying, barely aware that they were all sitting down in a large family hug. "I don't know what we're going to do." They sat together on the linoleum floor, crying, for a long time. As her tears slowed, Hermione picked herself up off the ground, wiping her eyes.

"I think I'll head off to bed now, alright? I—If you are going to Majorca soon, there must be some things you have to do. I'll help. And I probably ought to get ready for…" She trailed off sniffing.

"Of course dear," she said, "you've had an awfully long day."

* * *

Remus had slipped him the note at the platform as a last comment before Uncle Vernon had all but dragged him into the car. Although he had been pleased at the prospect of a nice, uplifting note from his former professor or help with the guilt he was feeling, the note had proved to be heavily lacking anything which could be termed 'uplifting' or 'helpful'. In fact, the news had been downright maddening. 

Harry had never been so incensed with Remus in his life. Not only did he still have to spend the first half of his summer with the Dursleys, but in order to escape them for the second half, he had to live with Draco Malfoy. It was a testament to how awful the Dursleys were that he still was looking forward to leaving them.

Harry hadn't even been looking forward to Grimmauld Place anyway. The idea of being anywhere reminiscent of Sirius was upsetting. Was it not enough that the prophesy had just been revealed to him, he had no family, _and_ was grieving over the loss of the only father figure he ever had? Now his _loving _mentors had heaped a great dose of living with his arch-rival on top of it all. Harry wanted to smash something. Very badly.

However, Harry restrained himself, and flopped down on his bed. He vented his frustration into a yell, muffled by his pillow and threw it across the room where it hit the door harmlessly.

"That really doesn't work that well," he thought to himself ruefully as he drifted off to a troubled sleep.

* * *

Just as Harry was arriving at Number 4 Privet Drive, Draco Malfoy was being smuggled into London; a polyjuiced Professor Snape had taken the train ride in his place, and Draco was about to take a portkey to that building Professor Dumbledore said would be safe. All in all, everything was going quite smoothly. 

Dumbledore looked at Draco over the rim of his glasses, fixing a serious gaze on him as he handed him a Muggle soup can.

"Mr. Malfoy, I want you to know; the place you are going to is a secret location. It is the headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix, and therefore will be frequented by many people who have things of great importance on their hands. They will not be in the mood to deal with any mischief or misbehavior you might come up with. I hope very much that you will integrate yourself into the household life, and please, place any childish prejudices aside. This is to be your safe haven. Molly Weasley is expecting you, so I think you'll be off about…now."

"Molly Weasl—" Draco began to say, but he was felt the familiar tug behind his navel and found himself dumped unceremoniously is a rather dank foyer.

* * *

Lucius was jolted awake in the middle of the night by a familiar pain in his arm. He rolled to his feet quickly, quietly. A few moments later, a large crash sounded from the entrance to the prison, followed by several sets of footsteps. There was a creaking noise in his cell door, and he could see a dark hooded figure in front of him with a pale hand, spinning an extra wand. 

Lucius scuttled to grab it; it was his own.

"Come" the figure whispered.

* * *

Harry was jolted awake in the middle of the night by a familiar pain in his scar, accompanied by the all too common strains of a vision slipping through his fingers. Scrambling to his desk, he grabbed a quill and a paper and scribbled down everything he could remember: a wrought iron gate, blown off its hinges. Grey walls and stone and mortar. A rat-like man handing a slender stick to a man with pale blond hair. A feeling of overwhelming happiness, screams of pain and euphoria. Azkaban had been breached. 

Hedwig nipped his ear soothingly. Harry took some water from the glass he had left by his bed, and petted her head. Absently looking over what he had written, he added a quick aside to his hasty notes and rolled them up. Tying them to Hedwig, he sent her off to Remus. He knew he should send them to Dumbledore, but in his opinion, the old cod could just hear it from Remus. There was no way Harry was risking Dumbledore thinking he was forgiven; he wasn't.

* * *

Draco had managed to trip and fall face first over an umbrella stand shaped like a troll leg as he landed. Following the loud crash of his fall, there was another piercing screeching noise. Such a cacophony of cats' tails being stepped on he had never heard. He rolled over and stood up quickly, looking for the source of that terrible sound. When he finally figured it out, he almost died of shock. 

There was the portrait of a woman he could recognize without a doubt as the most recent mother of the Black family. The woman in the portrait was screaming what Draco assumed to be words and as he tried to shut up the portrait, he could discern some of them.

"FOUL VILE MUDBLOOD-LOVERS...YOU DARE DEFILE… MOST _NOBLE_ HOUSE…MY BASTARD SON…TRAITORS ALL OF YOU…" and on and on she went. The shrieking was unbearable.

"MADAM BLACK! PLEASE, BE QUIET!" And she was. She looked at Draco with and an appraising eye.

"I haven't met you before. Are you a new recruit for the Order? Another one of these lowlifes Dumbledore digs up from the dredges of Society?"

Draco was highly offended, "I, madam, am a Malfoy, not some dredge, as you so kindly put it." The expression on the portrait's face changed to one of utter joy.

"At last! My darling Narcissa has conspired to save me! Quick, before anyone else comes, the spell to get me off the wall is _parietis absolvisti. _Quick! Before anyone else comes! They'll be home any minute!" Just as she finished speaking, the front door opened with a bang.

"RONALD WEASLEY, IF WE ARE LATE AND MISS HIM, JUST BECAUSE YOU COULDN'T CALM THAT STUPID BIRD, I SWEAR I'LL NOT BE RESPONSIBLE FOR MY ACTIONS."

"But Mum…"

"THIS ISN'T AMUSING, RONALD. PROFESSOR DUMBLEDORE SAID…" Molly Weasley stood in the middle of the front hall, and addressed a shell shocked Draco Malfoy in a way which one might use on a friend who hadn't been seen in ages. "My dear, you've arrived. We ought to get you settled."

"Mum? What's for dinner?" Piped up another voice, all too familiar. Draco worried that he had been dumped by Dumbledore at whatever shit-hole the Weasley's lived in. But then, why would they have a portrait of that Black woman?

Molly strode forward and took the soup can that was still in Draco's hand. Waving it behind her, she said,

"Well, Ginny, I do believe Dumbledore wants some soup. But we'll be needing more than one can, as the rest of the family is coming for a welcome home dinner. After all, it is good to have a family get together at the end of the year." She bustled into the kitchen, yelling back, "Ron, dear, take our guest up to your room. He'll be in the extra bed."

Draco looked back at the door, in a shocked silence to meet the wide eyes of Ron Weasley; the very last person he ever expected to see that summer. Peeking out from behind him was Ginny Weasley, along with Fred and George, who both wore identical grins which were making him very uncomfortable. Ron dropped the end of his trunk with a loud bang. There was an awkward silence, punctuated only by the unremitting wail of Mrs. Black.

After a few moments, one of the twins (he couldn't tell which one,) poked Ron in the back and said, "Well, Ronnikens, take your new friend up to your room!"

They both snickered and followed Mrs. Weasley into the kitchen. Ginny went up the stairs without a word, and Ron seemed to break out of his state of shock.

"Follow me," he said. He led Draco up the stairs to a small, dank room on the second landing. Pointing to a bed under a painting, he dropped his own trunk at the food of one of the other beds. "If you know what's good for you, you'll stay away from me and my family. There's no Crabbe and Goyle to protect your holy arse here, ferret." And he stormed down out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

AN: Well. Welcome to Grimmauld Place! This looks to be an interesting summer, don't you think so? Sorry to anyone who was paying attention, but it seems that instead of returning on the 20th as I thought, my family was really planning on returning, er…yesterday. Which would explain the week long delay. 

You know what I hate about golf? It's really just a snooty, expensive and time consuming game of kick the can. People get all dressed up and buy expensive clubs and join expensive clubs, but in the end, all it is is kick the can. What the hell?

And before you ask, my score was in the four digits. For nine holes. I am the worst golfer I know.

Please review. Really. I love you.


	4. Chapter 4

**Metamorphosis: A Story of Maturing  
Chapter 4: _WHO_ Has Lingerie?**

* * *

Draco was very pleased the next morning to find that he had not yet been severely pranked by the Weasley twins. He was also just as pleased to find the other occupant of the room, Ron, snoring link an earthquake, meaning he was still asleep. He quickly got dressed and slipped out of the room before Ron could awaken and throw more barbed insults his way. 

He found the kitchen easily, having been there for the incredibly awkward dinner the night before. Before he could enter, however, he heard voices from inside the kitchen. He pressed his ears against the door, listening silently.

"So they'll all be arriving soon, then, I gather. Thank goodness we have enough beds for them all. Everyone's coming, right?" He heard the voice of Molly Weasley.

"No. Not that Lovegood girl. Luna, I think, was her name. She'll be going on a trip with her father, something about finding a Snorkak or what. I can't quite remember." Draco positively jumped upon hearing the voice of his third year Defense professor. "On the other hand, Hermione will be arriving sometime today, and Neville Longbottom—you remember him—will be arriving by floo at 6.47 tonight."

"I'm just glad we have enough room for them. I'll need to be leaving for some groceries in a minute for them all, though. We're rather low on eggs, and makings for soup, considering how Professor Dumbledore likes to drop in and have a bit. We had that for dinner last night, actually."

"How was dinner, by the way? I'm sorry I missed it, but it seems there was some complicated spell work that Madam Pomfrey needed an additional hand with on our dear friend Severus. Seems he got into a spot of trouble on the train, though he wouldn't say what had happened."

"Dinner was…uncomfortable. Ron was stabbing at his food with a vengeance, and Ginny didn't speak much. Draco didn't say anything at all."

"That's probably good. He'd just insult everything." There was a snap of a towel, and Molly Weasley's voice raised a few decibels.

"Listen, Remus Lupin, I'm certainly not overjoyed to have a Malfoy in this house either. But just because his father is a Death Eater doesn't mean he's scum too. And didn't Dumbledore say he had defected?"

"Molly, that's not the point. I am very aware that he isn't a legitimate threat, but he and the other children have a rivalry somewhat akin to what Sirius and Severus had." Remus' voice broke slightly, but he continued, "But just because you've got a heart big enough to forgive even Belatrix Lestrange doesn't mean we all do. And what about when Harry gets here; I'm worried about how this will affect his grief. And I don't doubt there will be some tension with the others, either, once they've arrived."

Sirius and Severus? What? Did they mean Sirius _Black_? Severus Snape? And what was with the past tense? Did that mean they were friends now? Draco could hardly believe something like that. Why, Professor Snape had told them all about how he had _known_ Black would go to Azkaban when he first met him at Hogwarts.

Mrs. Weasley sighed. "Yes, Remus I suppose. But we'll conquer that hurdle when we get there, eh?" Remus must have nodded or something, because Molly continued. "I'll be going then, dear. I'll be back before anyone else is awake so I can make breakfast. Ron no doubt will be starving."

Mrs. Weasley apparated away, and Draco listened closely for any sound of life from within the room. A few moments later, he hears the telltale sounds of an owl being let in and out of a window, and parchment unrolling.

He had had enough of this waiting around, and was just about to push open the swinging door, when there was an angry slam and an even more irritated exclamation of "BULLOCKS!" The kitchen door swung open, hitting Draco in the face, and he caught a glimpse of Remus Lupin storming upstairs in a panic.

* * *

Hermione was in a foul mood when she awoke, and it was _not _improved by the impenetrable response Dumbledore had sent her. 

_Dear Ms. Granger,_

_I apologize that I cannot enlighten you further on the nature of Mr. Potter's distress. It is most likely the result of more than grief, but I can assure you that he will share it with you when he is ready. I fear that further violating his trust in me at this time would be at best unwise. _

_On a different note, you parents have informed me that they will be sending you to headquarters again this summer. Enclosed, please find a knut which I have enchanted to act as your portkey. It will activate upon saying, "Please pass the frozen dynamite". _

_Again, I apologize for any irritation this may cause you. I hope your stay at HQ will be pleasant._

_Sincerely,_

_Professor Dumbledore_

Very irritated _indeed_, Hermione tipped the envelope into her hand and glared at the knut in her hand. Scowling, she put it on her desk with the fully unhelpful note and returned to packing.

Several sets of Muggle jeans were tossed in her trunk, along with a handful of tops and the majority of her socks-and-underthings drawer. Her few items of makeup were added, toothbrush, a pair of sandals, and she snapped the trunk closed, with perhaps a bir more vigor than necessary.

_That should do it_, she thought, as her stomach growled. _I'm turning into Ron, Merlin save me. _She rolled her eyes and went downstairs, tucking the charmed knut into her pocket. Maybe her mother would have bacon.

* * *

Remus had been sitting at the kitchen table drinking a cup of think black coffee when Molly had left. He actually rather loathed the taste of the nasty American beverage, but it was the only thing that kept him awake in the days approaching the full moon. 

Grimacing at the bitter flavor, he looked up through the window to see Hedwig, Harry's owl, tapping on the glass with a letter in her beak. _Harry **can't** be in trouble this soon, _He thought, annoyed.

He retrieved the letter from Hedwig, gave her a piece of toast and ushered her on her way. His eyes widened as he read the note. Slamming it down on the table and swearing, he stood and dashed out of the kitchen, not noticing the dazed blond teenager he knocked to the ground.

* * *

After recovering from his shock, Draco peeked into the room, not anxious for a confrontation with any of the Weasley's or anyone else who might be living in this place. 

Finding to coast clear, Draco grabbed a ripe-looking orange from the counter and sat himself down for breakfast. His stomach protested at the measly offering, reminding him of the lavish breakfast probably being laid out now at Malfoy Manor. He shook himself; if he was really going to separate himself from his family, he needed to stop reminding himself of home. It certainly wasn't a home any longer.

Absently tossing the peel in the rubbish bin, he peeled a section off the orange and looked at the pile of papers on the table. There was a handwritten note, a copy of The Daily Prophet, two weeks old. There was a grocery list in neat handwriting, and also a note saying, _meeting tonight at 7.30. _All in all it was very boring. He ate a piece of his orange, and pulled out the crossword, which was half finished.

Draco smirked; he knew some of them. _Let's see, 32 down, blast-ended ?(6)…oh come on. That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. I still have burn scars from that class. Stupid Hagrid._ He closed the paper and absently leaned back in his chair.

He peeled off another section of his orange and popped it into his mouth. He picked up the first note, and was about to read it, when suddenly there was a loud crash from the foyer, followed by the familiar shrieks of Mrs. Black. The note still clutched in his hand, he leaped up and ran to see what had happened.

Upon arriving, he saw the perfect embodiment of the word 'havoc'.

Apparently, someone had arrived by portkey and had fallen into the same trouble that he had, quite literally. Unfortunately, this person also seemed to have a trunk, which was split open with its contents scattered across the floor. Draco scanned the room, unsure of what to do, and caught sight of a few rather suggestive pieces of black and red lace, among other things.

Remus bounded downstairs, and pulled the curtains over Mrs. Black's portrait, finally silencing it. Turning to the girl who had arrived, he embraced her warmly.

"Hermione," he said, "we hadn't expected you until later, or Mrs. Weasley would have stayed to greet you. So nice to see you."

Draco gaped. Those things belong to her?

Hermione pulled away from Remus and brushed herself off. "When are we going to get rid of that stupid umbrella stand? Tonks must have knocked into it a million times, and now I have too." Remus chuckled and nodded.

"I think it's time for it to go. Merlin knows how much this house needs help. What with our lovely lady over there," he nodded his head towards the moldy curtains, "and the stuff Kreacher has been pulling back from the rubbish, well, this place has been hell." He turned his head up, and finally made eye contact with Draco. He paused.

"Hermione, there's something else you might like to know. I don't know if anyone told you yet, but there's another guest staying here this summer."

"Oh? Who? Is Neville coming? Or Luna?"

"Er, yes, Neville will be here, but that's not quite who I was referring to." In response to Hermione's questioning look, Remus opened his mouth to respond, but then, snapped it shut. He then just pointed deprecatingly behind her. "I believe you've met?" he said dryly.

Hermione, like Ron, was shocked into a stunned silence, but for a completely different reason. She followed Draco's line of sight, which had not changed since he entered the room, and realized that she had most definitely packed things she hadn't meant to. How, in the name of Merlin, had her lingerie been in her suitcase?

She snapped out of her stupor and rushed forward, gathering clothes in her hand and stuffing them back in her trunk. Lupin offered to help, but she snapped at him, and in a matter of seconds everything was put back in and she slammed the lid down.

"Er…I think I'll just…er…am I in the same room as before? Yeah, I'll just be…er…going then." She stammered, her face burning. She retreated upstairs, lugging her trunk behind her as Draco watched, dumbfounded.

_**Granger** had_ _lingerie? What was the world coming to?_

After the pair of mismatched males watched Hermione disappear up the stairs, a rather awkward silence descended. Draco could see Remus was clearly searching for something to say, and he himself felt oddly compelled to say something appreciative. This was a very foreign feeling to him, and thusly he was thrown off balance.

"Professor..."

"Mr. Malfoy…" they both began at once, and Remus returned to a pensive silence, looking at Draco with a look that he couldn't place. After a long pause, he said, "Welcome to Grimmauld Place, I suppose. Er…" Words echoing in his ears…_just insult everything…_

"Thanks, I suppose…" The words felt strange in mouth. Draco suddenly felt very uncomfortable, and he wanted desperately to get away from Lupin. Shifting his weight, he continued snappishly, "It's not like I had much choice coming here, is it?"

Remus just nodded once, and turned around, walking back up the stairs. He had a letter to forward.

Meanwhile, back in the foyer, Draco slipped his hands into his pockets, deep in thought. Touching the crinkly parchment with surprise, he pulled it out of his pocket and smoothed it out. Reading it, he felt the blood start to drain from his face.

He had known it wouldn't be long, but the implications of this new development were still quite harrowing.

If Azkaban was really breached, then Draco's father was on the loose. And if Draco knew anything about him, he knew one thing.

There was no way Lucius would rest until he'd brought about revenge on his apostate son.

* * *

One of my favorite things, really, the Thesaurus in Word. Gives you words like _apostate, _which really just means turncoat. Or absconder, traitor, runaway, fugitive, or renegade. Not that I'm just listing the options. Of course not. 

Hope you like this chapter. I think I do, even if it is rather short and nothing really happens. Maybe a touch too melodramatic towards the end.

Please review. I really love it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Metamorphosis: A Story of Maturing  
Chapter 5: A Puzzle For You**

* * *

Ron had never been so pleased in his life to see Neville. When the slightly chubby boy popped out of the floo that night, he had even helped him drag his trunk upstairs, brushing rudely past The Git, as he liked to call him. When they had comfortably sat themselves down in the bedroom, Neville finally voiced his question, which had been burning since the unlikely encounter on the stairs. 

"Er, Ron? Was that _really_ Malfoy?"

"YES! It was! He's been staying here ever since summer began. From what I've heard, he defected or something and is hiding here till all the trouble goes away." Ron snorted, "Bloody coward."

"How long did you say he'd been here?"

"He was here when Mum brought us here from the platform, right at the beginning of summer."

"Right then?"

"Yes, Neville. I told you." Ron's voice was snappy. Maybe seeing Neville wasn't such a great idea. He seemed to be denser than usual.

"Sorry, don't mean to sound dense." Ron blushed. "Just, if we sort of turned Crabbe, Goyle AND Malfoy into humans-resembling-slugs on the train ride home, how did he manage to beat you here, looking normal?"

Ron just stared at him. "You know, Neville, I never thought of that." And the boys sat there, pondering the puzzle until the dinner bell rang.

The dinner bell always seemed to break Ron out of his stupors. No one ever really knew why.

* * *

Almost a week later, Draco was very surprised to be pulled into the library by a very vexed lycanthrope. After shutting all the doors and casting a silencing charm, he cast a quick glance around all the cracks in the vicinity. Looking satisfied, he straightened, and smiled, only to suddenly rush past Draco and grab a stringy bit of flesh colored something hanging through a crack in the ceiling. Remus gave it a sharp tug, and an audible thump and curse were heard from above. 

"Fred, George, I really don't think this is something I can share with you! Maybe some other time, alright?" Two thumps in quick succession were heard, and Remus cracked a grin at Malfoy's stunned expression.

"What is _that_?" He asked. Remus chuckled.

"Extendable Ear. Fred and George developed them last year, and they use them to eavesdrop during meetings and such. I've become very good at recognizing them." He handed the fleshy bit of string to Draco for closer inspection, "Sometimes I let it slide, but this is something which I think you might not want to share with them."

Draco just nodded. He was pretty sure that Professor Lupin was going to tell him his father had escaped from Azkaban, and he wasn't sure if he should just act surprised so that he wouldn't know he had been snooping, or just tell him he knew already.

"I know you might have been expecting this, but about a week ago, we learned that, well—"

"Professor, if you're going to tell me my father's out, then don't waste your breath, I already know." If the werewolf was surprised, he didn't show it.

"I suppose it's too much to hope that you might keep a secret in this God-Forsaken house. Then all that's left is to ask you, is there any way that your father might be tracking you? It's certainly a viable assumption that he might be seeking revenge due to your defection, and it's sort of my job to ensure your protection." Draco cut off a snide comment about not being a wuss like Longbottom or Potter before it could escape, and thought for a moment.

"I don't really think so, but then, I suppose I wouldn't know if he did. He wouldn't tell me something like that." Remus nodded pensively.

"You don't mind if I do a quick scan? It won't hurt or anything, I promise."

"What good is the word of a wolf?" Draco couldn't think of why he said it, and Remus just bit his tongue, refusing to retaliate. Draco was quite frustrated. "I mean, come on, it's not like your kind is known for honesty or integrity. I mean, you lot eat babies!"

The only sign of Remus' anger was the tight grip he had on his wand. "I don't think you quite understand what you're saying, Mr. Malfoy."

"Like hell I do. All of you are just wolves in sheep's clothing. I should be worried about you trying to eat me in my sleep." Remus' knuckles were white.

"Malfoy, I really think it's time for you to stop judging individuals on a group stereotype. I, personally, have _never_ in my life bitten _anything_. I've only even gotten close once. There are some werewolves who are dark, yes, but not all. The fact that you peg me as one simply validates your own stupidity."

"Yeah, well, that doesn't change that you're a monster!" Remus was shaking now with suppressed rage.

"If I hadn't promised Dumbledore I'd keep you, you'd be out on the streets in a second, Malfoy," he snarled. "And I find it hard to believe, with your state of being, that you would be so careless as to assume things you don't understand. That's why we're at war, don't you know, because some stupid purebloods were too arrogant to think that maybe, just _maybe_, they might not be all powerful?"

"So the werewolf sticks up for the mudbloods, eh?" Draco didn't know where all of this was coming from. "You all think you're so special, don't you, fighting for the light. Being good, being _noble_. Well, I'll tell you, if I didn't value myself even a tiny bit, I wouldn't be here. I hate this shit."

"Get out of the library this instant. I will not tolerate such narrow-mindedness here." Remus' voice was frighteningly calm, and Draco left the room, leaving a furious man behind him. Closing the door, he could hear the moaning of the portrait in the foyer, the footsteps of Ron, Hermione and Neville, such good friends, and the clanging pots of Mrs. Weasley in the kitchen, preparing dinner.

Feeling very lonely, Draco sulked up to his shared bedroom praying to whoever was listening up there that it would be empty and he could feel sorry for himself in peace.

It wasn't.

* * *

Harry was bored as can be. His friends had sent him several letters so far, and he had returned them dutifully simple assurances that he was fine, but his heart wasn't in it. The Dursleys hadn't been too nasty, considering they thought Harry would owl his "Freak Friends" if they so much as looked at him the wrong way. 

The truth was, Harry probably wouldn't have owled so much as a fle even if the Dursleys had started to beat him. Feeling guilty about a death will make anyone self destructive, and Harry had experienced his fair share of Survivor's Guilt. Added to that was the isolation forced upon him and he was in a right state.

Resting on his bed, Harry quickly finished up his obligatory letters to Ron and Hermione and sent them on their way with Hedwig, who looked anxious for a short flight. Lying down, he traced the familiar pattern of cracks in the ceiling. What was the point of it all anyway?

Just as he drifted off to yet another un-restful sleep, his eyes rested on a picture on his desk. He was standing with Ron, Hermione and Ginny, and just as his eyes closed, he thought he saw picture-Ginny lean over and plant a not-so-sisterly-kiss on his cheek.

But that _must_ have been his imagination.

* * *

Lucius Malfoy was leaning over a large square of glass. Having finally been released from his punishment of 7 days with his master, he had stormed in to his manor through the secret entrance into the room beneath the drawing-room floor, and pulled it out. 

He had been furious with Draco when he heard the news. Fleeing the Death Eaters? Gone into hiding? This was not to be tolerated. Not from a Malfoy.

Rolling up his sleeves, he pointed his wand at the very centre of the glass. Whispering the incantation, the glass began to frost over in a strange pattern, almost like a map.

In fact, it was a map. And if everything worked, he should be able to locate this traitor of a son of his. His features spread out into an evil smirk as the frost began to cover the entire plate. He held his breath, as he recognized some of the streets as part of London. The process was almost complete.

Pulling out a small vial of dark red liquid, the elder Malfoy tipped it carefully, spilling only one drop of the younger Malfoy's blood onto the pane, where it fell and splattered. Just another minute now, and he'd know where that humiliating piece of slime was.

And he would make him pay.

* * *

Draco was only minimally surprised to hear whispering voices from his room. 

"Ok, Ron. Here's the plan:"

"His Holy-Ferret-ness will be coming down the stairs at approximately 9.43 a.m.,"

"You will be in position with the itching powder at location 33."

"Fred and I will be in position with the new products number 33 at locations 41 and 82."

"At exactly 9.44 am, we strike."

"Don't you dare." _What? _Thought Draco.

"_HERMIONE!_" The voices whined. _Ohh…._

"Just because he's a Slytherin, you lot simply can't keep your mean-spirited pranks to yourselves. You lot should give him a break. Think of it. He's obviously in hiding here, and you all can't seem to just let him be!"

There was an awkward silence.

"HA!" Laughed Ron weakly, "for a moment there, Hermione, I thought you were serious." There was a loud smack, and Hermione yelled,

"Ronald Weasley, you frustrate me! How _could _you be so cold hearted?" Draco had only a moments warning before the door flew open and Hermione stood in front of him, eyes blazing.

"What on EARTH could _you_ want?"

"Er…"

"Never mind." She snapped, and she stomped off.

_What was that about?

* * *

_

Remus leaned his head in his hands as Draco stormed out of the library. He had known when he had agreed (against his better judgment) that it wasn't going to be roses with him in the house. Hell, it wasn't going to be roses with him anywhere. But pity, and Molly Weasley had made him see that maybe, just maybe, Draco was worth trying to save.

Now he was regretting it. Remus was no stranger to taunts about his lycanthropy. He had grown up with them in his life, and despite the sweet reprieve he had at Hogwarts with the Marauders, oftentimes people would still sneer at him. But all this experience didn't mean that the barbs hurt any less.

Remus knew in a few minutes he would calm down again. _He doesn't know any better, what with growing up with Lucius Malfoy, he doesn't know, no one could truly mean something like that…Remus, man, you're not a monster…not a monster…_

But while Lupin consoled himself, it never crossed his mind that he never actually got around to scanning for those tracing charms. Or that he currently had no idea where the extendable ear from earlier had gone to.

* * *

Everything was against him, Draco decided. 

This was easy enough to prove. He was trapped in a house of immeasurable creepiness with the people he loathed second only to his father, two of whom had been pranking him non-stop since he had arrived, once even involving a potion which had made him sing in an alarmingly out of tune voice all of the old Spice Witches songs from the '90s. Not to mention the several different hair colors he'd sported, along with a few animal transformations, (the Weasley Twins had branched out from simple Canary Creams). In addition, his father was out of prison and, if he hadn't already, was about to go into a homicidal rage directed at Draco for hiding in said house instead of getting a skull and snake tattoo burned into his arm and forcing himself into life long servitude dedicated to a Dark Lord who enjoyed torturing people for fun. whew

Having dumped himself down at the kitchen counter, Draco just sat. He ran his fingernail across a groove in the table, and must have been looking really melancholy, because when Mrs. Weasley came in, she immediately rushed to his side.

"Dear, what's the matter?" Draco looked at her in wonder. _What's the matter?_ Was she insane? "Oh, I should have known things would be more difficult with the others. Here."

And before he knew it, Draco was swept up in the first real hug of his life. And for some reason, he wondered, he was actually enjoying it.

* * *

Lucius Malfoy was leaning over the pane of glass expectantly. He had charmed this to trace Draco when he was nearly infantile, and had used it once before without fail when Draco's first set of grades had come in. Draco hadn't hid from him since. 

His nose nearly touching the glass, he smiles as the dark blood began to slither across the map, spreading, searching…

His face contorted into a scowl, and then he let out a frustrated roar. Storming out of the room, he vowed he wouldn't rest until that damned son of his was dead in his hands.

Across the frosted glass, the blood had streamed and drawn, slowly forming the letters:

**LOCATION UNAVAILABLE

* * *

**

A/N: Ok, to the reviewer who wanted the exact name of the other good D/H fic I read, the story number is 386939. It's called, specifically, _Their Room, _and it while it didn't exactly inspire this fic, it was certainly a good read. Hope you enjoy.

Just a few more comments than usual today, in response to the reviews(which I love): A few people have been mentioning that Draco doesn't seem to opposed to Voldemort et al(and I meant et al, not at all). This is on purpose.gaspWhen you think about it, Draco Malfoy as we know him (the spineless ferret-idiot-man from the books) has no affection for muggles, muggle-borns, the Order or being a good person at all. What I'm trying to do is give a logical reason for why he would defect, and eventually fall in love with our bushy-haired, bookworm heroin. It makes no sense if he just suddenly STOPS being evil because I say so, no matter how much easier this story would be to write.

I also wanted to thank everyone who's been reviewing. It's really a bright spot in my day to see so many people responding to what I write. _I_ may think it's good, but in the end, it's what _you_ all think that really matters. So please, keep it up. I love you:)


	6. Chapter 6

**Metamorphosis: A Story of Maturing  
Chapter 6: The Stupidest Idea He Had Ever Come Up With Ever,  
Even Including Ron Weasley's Stupid Ideas,  
Which Number in the Thousands**

* * *

Draco was, at the moment, unusually bored. He was so bored, in fact, that he was seriously considering breaking out of this stupid safe house and running away to Africa where no one would turn his hair blue. But, he reconsidered, there were large feline predators in Africa, and they might eat him. Maybe somewhere else then. 

Anywhere was better than here, though, locked up in a house and ignored by everyone except Mrs. Weasley, counting the cracks webbed across the ceiling for days at a time. Maybe he'd go to the beach instead.

Sighing dejectedly, he looked over his last bit of summer homework. He couldn't remember a summer before this one when he had even been close to finishing his summer work before July, but then again, he couldn't remember a summer when he was in hiding from his father's insane homicidal rage either.

Finding that he really couldn't add another word to his already twice-as-long-as-necessary essay on The History of the Dragon-Pox, Beginning with the First Case of Chauncey Oldridge in 1379, and the Eventual Discovery of the Vaccine by Edward Pomfrey in the 15th Century, he angrily stuffed his essay into his trunk and slammed it shut. As if Professor Binns ever actually read all of this crap.

Rolling over on his bed, he continued counting cracks. There was a very interesting new one over by the left corner of the room, and he was very eager to investigate.

* * *

As bored as Draco was, Remus Lupin was just as excited. The Order had met and finally designed a plan for Harry's transference which Dumbledore considered safe enough, and it was planned to be executed in three days.

Professor Snape would be providing three servings of Polyjuice Potion, left over from his earlier escapade, which he still refused to speak about. Professor Dumbledore had made a portkey for the real Harry to take, escorted by Remus himself, but to avert suspicion and interference, three other volunteers would make the journey in three different ways, escorted by different members of the order. The plan was foolproof.

Mundungus Fletcher had volunteered to take a potion as a way of redeem himself for his grievous error the summer before. Tonks had agreed to accompany him. Severus Snape had adamantly refused to have anything to do with taking Potter's Polyjuice, and had decided to remain at HQ. Alastor Moody was going to escort Bill Weasley-alias-Harry, and Kingsley Shacklebolt would escort Fleur Delacour in disguise, surprisingly. Bill had put up a fuss, expectedly, when she had volunteered, but she had swiftly put him in his place, commenting that if _he_ could do it, so could she. Coupled with a glare and a touch of what could have been her Veela charm, Bill had relented.

Remus was very, very worried about Harry. The last time he had seen him was at the platform, disappearing off to the Dursley's and out of his reach. Remus had missed seeing Harry, and was very worried about his grieving by himself. If anyone deserved a loving family, it was Harry, and he was, regrettably, isolated from the rest of the world. The letters he had received so far from him had been less than informative, and Remus was very concerned for the boy.

But in a few more days all this would be remedied. Harry would be in his care, and Remus wouldn't worry so.

If only Sirius were here…

* * *

Hermione had also finished all of her summer homework, and was also quite bored, but for a completely different reason. There was only so much of Ron Weasley one could take, you know, until your brain dissolved and streamed out one's ears. _A distraction, _though Hermione, _is just what he needs. And _not_ a distraction associated with the Canons. _

"Really, Hermione, are you paying attention? Fred says The Cup is being held in Latvia this summer, and that _sounds _close enough to reach by floo, if you're up to it." Something fragile in Hermione snapped.

"Ron! Have you finished your summer homework?" Ron looked at her as if she were insane. Which she almost was. "I'm serious. Have you finished it? Because there's no way even in your delusional fantasies that you'll end up at this stupid Quidditch-match-in-the-north-pole-or-whatever if you haven't written that essay."

Ron gaped at her. "St—st—stupid Quidditch? Hermione?" And he passed out with a Shocked and Betrayed look on his face, not unexpectedly. Hermione thanked whoever was paying attention up there for preserving her sanity, and went downstairs for some grapes.

* * *

There was a not so brief moment on the stairs when Hermione was trying to go down, and Malfoy was trying to go up, and they were both in very awful moods, respectively. No one else was trying to get around them, so just because they could they glared angrily at each other for a full seven and a half minutes. Finally, when Hermione remembered the grapes downstairs, she brushed past him in a huff to go get them.

Draco Malfoy then spent the next twenty and one fourth minutes sitting at the top of the stairs telling himself that Granger most certainly does not look sexy when she brushes past you in a huff, accidentally brushing her…girly parts against him. Most Certainly.

* * *

Two days later, the final stages of preparation for Saint Potter's arrival were happening. The almost orgasmic state Mrs. Weasley was perpetually in made Draco slightly jealous, and slightly ill. Hermione, the -most-certainly-not-sexy-one, as he kept reminding himself, was also getting quite giddy, and there was no other word for it. Neville and Ron were on pins and needles, wondering if Harry might want to _talk_ to them about something serious, but he wasn't sure exactly what that meant.

Still, he reasoned, Such Excitement over one stupid scar-headed boy couldn't be healthy.

Arthur Weasley had shown up, much to Draco's displeasure, and slobbered ostentatiously over his wife in a manner which Draco deemed Highly Inappropriate. Families did not do things like That in public, it was demeaning. To add insult to injury, Mr. Weasley had also started to talk about plugs and light bulbs, and perhaps Harry, dear lad, would have a few he could look at when he came.

However, the final blow for Draco was the arrival of Fleur Delacour, the dazzling beauty he remembered as the Beauxbaton's Champion from fourth year. She arrived in a whirl of sexy hair and even sexier robes, happily proclaiming that she couldn't wait to see Dear Harry so much, and oh, how she had missed him.

Draco quickly left the room to retch. _No, _he thought, _definitely not healthy.

* * *

_

The next day, the strange excitement and buzzing in the house reached a fever pitch. In order to escape the insane worship of The-Wizard-Draco-Hates-Fourth-Most, after only his Father, Lord Voldemort, and Professor Moody, Draco resorted to desperate measures.

He locked himself in a closet and hid.

Hid, that was, until he saw a very frightening pair of yellow-green tennis ball eyes squinting at him in the darkness. Then, he ran. Like a little girl.

After several more attempts to hide, which entailed several Fearsome Things Which Shall Not Be Mentioned Here and a Hippogriff which looked remarkably similar to the one which had attacked him in third year, chomping threateningly on a piece of dead meat, Draco finally found a room where no one was present and/or twittering about The-Prat-Who-Would-Not-Just-Die-Already-And-Leave-Me-Be. It was, in the least, a great relief.

Draco leaned against the wall and stuck his hands in his pockets, only to immediately draw them out again upon touching something flesh-textured and strange. Oh, dear.

Hesitantly, he reached into his pocked and pulled out a slightly familiar piece of fleshy string. Squinting, he tried to remember where he'd seen it before. It came back to him in wisps: Fred and George. Something almost like Pride in Remus Lupin's eyes. _Extendable Ears._

So these things help you eavesdrop? Let's see…

Draco peered down at the floor in front of him. Trying to envision a plan of the house in his mind, he concluded, albeit with uncertainty, that he was presently above Remus Lupin's study. _This must be where the Terrible Twins were planning on eavesdropping from. _

Casting his eyes bout the floor, he found a well worn crack in the left corner which was the perfect size for one end of the Extendable Ear, and dropped it down. He put the other end to his ear and was astounded. He could hear everything just as if he were down there.

Shifting his weight to his heels, he sat back and just listened.

* * *

Remus was in a right state. He was So Nervous that one was nervous just looking at him. Something was sure to go wrong. What is it, Melvin's Law? Murphy's Law? Got it. Something WILL GO WRONG.

He called out to Fleur, who is sitting comfortably in an armchair on the other side of the room. "Fleur dear, where is Bill?"

"I am sorrrrry," She rolls the R in that sultry, Veela like voice she has. "I 'ave not seen Bill een almost an 'our." Remus frets a bit, strikingly similar to an old lady who has misplaced her favorite reading glasses and suddenly the door opens, and in walks Bill.

"Remus, good man, are you sure that this Polyjuice will work? I've been talking to Hermione about it and she just stuttered and said 'You should NEVER ever use Polyjuice Potion,' and ran away with her metaphoric tail between her legs. I've never seen her so upset."

"Er, well, Hermione may have had some…bad experiences with this, but not to worry, we've got samples that I'm sure will be satisfactory. Harry sent them to me this morning, and Severus and I already mixed it in. Everything will be fine." Remus didn't sound too sure of himself, but Bill seemed reassured.

"So, it's just Fletcher, Fleur, and I taking the potion right? Harry will be taking a portkey, and Tonks, Arthur and Shacklebolt will be escorting?"

"Yes" Said Remus. "Except Arthur won't be escorting, Moody will be. And I'll take the real Harry and everything will turn out FINE." Remus seemed to think that if he just kept saying this, then it would be true. It wouldn't.

Remus was so caught up in his nervousness that he, for once, did not notice the Extendable Ear, which was slowly being retracted from the hole in the ceiling which really needed to be fixed.

* * *

Draco had become very, very good at hiding in closets. It had even become an instinct while he had been in Grimmauld Place, due to the whole self-preservation tactic with the Weasley Twins around. So when he hadfoundhimself inthe kitchen, surprised at the cauldron of what could justifiably be called Glop on the counter instead of a lovely fruit bowl, and an angry set of footsteps heading his way, he had used his new talent and dashed into the pantry just in time to escape the piercing eyes and most frightening snout of his head of house.

Snape emptied the contents of a small envelope into the sludge, changing its color from something-brown-and-unappetizing-mud-sludge to emerald-green-unappetizing-mud sludge. Judging from the time of day it was, the conversation he was not supposed to have heard the night before, and the mere presence of His Greasiness, Draco judged what had just happened, correctly, to be Severus Snape glaring at some snippings of Harry Potter Hair and mixing them into a Polyjuice potion.

Hissing malevolently, Snape billowed out of the kitchen, and Draco stood looking at the caldron with an expression which any mother will tell you spells disaster. The beginnings of a desperate plan began to form into his mind, and Draco, driven mad by the near-claustrophobia that this damn place had inflicted upon him, acted before he had time to realize this was, quite possibly, the stupidest idea he had ever had. Bar none.

Draco snuck out of the pantry and hid himself slyly in the space behind the Black family Tapestry, and before too log was rewarded with the voice of the Potion's Master accompanied by three very different sets of footsteps coming from the kitchen.

"I will give you each one cup of the potion, along with a set of robes, shoes, and glasses which will fit your lesser form. I will also give you a canteen of the potion, should you feel that your return trip will outlast the effects of the potion, which are limited to exactly one hour." Snape's upper lip curled audibly. "Please be out of my sight when you change into the Potter boy." Snape handed out everything, and Draco could hear several murmurs of thanks and then the bold voice of Bill Weasley, saying,

"Alright then, everyone separate and we'll meet back here in a moment. Don't take too long." His heavy footsteps faded away, as did the lighter ones of the French Veela. Draco peered through a hole which was burnt around the edges, and saw the back of what looked like a large pile of rags walking away towards a hallway Draco had yet to explore in all thoroughness. Draco hesitantly followed, praying, just _praying_ that this half brained scheme would work.

He saw the smelly one turn and enter what must have been another bedroom, and quickly followed him in. Dung took out his pipe, not noticing the blond haired boy beside him, and began to blow large clouds of black smoke into the air. Not paying attention, he was shocked beyond belief to suddenly find himself shoved head first into a closet. Hearing a chair slid under the handle of the door, he just sighed and returned to smoking his pipe.

There was nothing else he could do but wait and enjoy his pipe.

* * *

Draco found himself upon the cusp of destiny. He held in his right hand the wand of Mundungus Fletcher, which would allow him to actually use magic without being expelled, and in his left, a goblet of Polyjuice Potion which would enable his escape from this hell of a house, even if only for an hour or so.

Pinching his nose, he eagerly downed the potion, and as he shuddered at the effects dearly wished he hadn't. But in a few moments it was all over, and Draco suddenly felt a wave of sympathy for anyone who needed glasses. He couldn't see anything.

Groping blindly for the set of glasses and robes the rag-man had left on the back of a chair, Draco tripped over his shoes, which were suddenly too large and fell on his face. Pulling himself up, he finally found the glasses and slipped them onto his nose. Everything came into focus, and he realized that his robes were just a little short for him, and a little loose around the shoulders. Quickly changing into the extra robes and shoes, he turned to the mirror and confronted his reflection. An annoyingly familiar pair of bright green eyes peered back at him. They drifted up to the signature scar on his forehead and he smirked, and expression which looked very out of place on the face of Harry Potter.

It was go-time, as the Americans would say.

* * *

Lucius Malfoy was _not_ sulking. Men of such stature as a Malfoy did not sulk. They did not throw priceless heirloom china at their wives, and they did not glare for hours on end at a frosty pane of glass that, no matter what, refused to change.

Of course not.

Lucius Malfoy was simply checking, again, to see if there was anything he could do to find his wretched son who would soon be dead, if he had anything to say about it. Dead as a doornail. He had checked often enough in the past few weeks, and nothing had changed at all. Which explained the absolute shock and jubilation which shone from his pale, pale face when he looked down at the glass for what he promised himself would be the last time that day.

The map was moving. Slowly, as if it were very, very confused, it was sliding south through London and then past London…

Lucius was practically drooling with evil anticipation. Where was he, the stupid boy? The map panned through the south east, and came to rest in Surry. As the map came into focus, Lucius could almost read the name of the street where the red blood was concentrating.

"Brimal….no….Brival…that's definitely a V…a P….maybe…Privel…no…Privet. Privet Drive. Number….

Number Four. Number Four Privet Drive." His eyes slanted in a very wicked way, and Lucius Malfoy twirled his wand in his spindly fingers. "Now, my dear boy, we will have a bit of _fun._"

* * *

Draco Malfoy had never felt so exhilarated in his life. No one was glaring at him, avoiding him, and he was out of doors, riding a broomstick above London, Disillusioned, of course, for protection. He was in the company of a witch whom he remembered as maybe being a relative of his, along with two other Harry look-alikes, two other Aurors and Remus Lupin, who, while being intimidating, showed no suspicion that he wasn't who they thought he was. This was perfect.

They quickly found themselves on the doorstep of a very normal and boring looking suburban house. Tonks, his escort, tripped and almost fell into the mailbox dismounting her broom, but Draco made less of a fool of himself and dismounted smoothly with the others. Remus went forward and pushed a button by the door, sending resoundingly cheerful bell tones through the house. The door was tentatively opened by a woman who strongly reminded Draco of a horse backed up by a man who looked remarkably like a bulldog. Before the strangely proportioned woman could slam the door, Remus leapt forward and pushed it open with an unusual show of strength.

Draco took a swig from his canteen, as did the others, and as a party they shoved their collective way past her. Moody rolled his magical eye around, making the woman very pale, and Remus greeted her cordially.

"Hello, Petunia, dear. Vernon, good man. We're here to collect Harry; he's in his room I suppose?" The shocked woman nodded silently, staring flabbergasted at the three copies of he nephew. All of them trooped upstairs and followed Remus and Mad-Eye, who was checking through each door to see which one was Harry's.

Remus was much more sure of himself. When the group arrived at a door accessorized with around ten locks and deadbolts and a doggy-door, Remus opened it without hesitation. What Draco saw from behind the werewolf's bony shoulders shocked him.

He had always thought Harry lived a very nice life at home. In reality, Harry was living in conditions suitable, perhaps, for a rat. There was very little furniture in the room, and a mattress which had no doubt seen better days long ago was crammed into the corner. Harry Potter lived in a dump.

Remus scowled and stomped over to a wryly smiling and very ill looking Harry Potter, propped up on the bed.

"You promised me that you would write if they did anything to you." Harry only looked up at him, his expression clearly saying, "Ya think?"

"_They _haven't done anything to me."

"Damn right they didn't Harry. This is neglect! I'm so sorry we—"

"REMUS! I said they hadn't done anything to me. I'm not kidding. And even if they had, I'd deserve it." Draco Malfoy was stunned into shock. Where was the annoying, cocky, self-righteous Potter from school?

"Harry." Remus' tone was filled with remorse. "It's not your fault. I _promise_."

"YEAH WELL IT DOESN'T CHANGE THE FACT THAT HE'S DEAD, DOES IT?"

Remus looked very uncomfortable as did the rest of the party. Draco had no idea what was going on.Remus tactfully changed the subject. "It's time to go, Harry. Ron and Hermione and Neville have been very worried about you. Not to mention the rest of the Weasleys." Harry just frowned.

"They shouldn't have." Remus pulled Harry's decidedly bonier than before body up to stand, and marched him back downstairs.

"Tonks, would you shrink all of Harry's things so we can go? I want to get him out of here as soon as possible." Remus shouted up the stairs.

Tonks shouted back down, "Oh, Remus, don't worry about it, Dung and I'll take care of it. You take him to HQ for some Molly Weasley soup or what." Remus shouted his thanks, and Draco heard the familiar sound of a Portkey. Harry Potter was safe.

Kingsley and Moody were anxious to get moving themselves, and they left with their respective Harry's quickly. Tonks started throwing all of the text books around Harry's bed into his trunk and was about to shut it when Draco stopped her. "Maybe we should include his photos, too?" Tonks smiled and nodded.

"Ahh, Dung, you always think of the sweet things." As Draco let Harry's snowy owl out of her cage to fly herself, Tonks grabbed the photographs lined up around Harry's bed and dropped them into the trunk as well.

Snapping it shut and shrinking it, Tonks put it in her pocket and then, standing still for a moment, changed her hair to electric green. Waltzing downstairs, she walked straight through the foyer and past the horse woman, pug-man and something Draco realized belatedly was a person. A very, very large person.

Tonks paused in front of the cowering mass and glared, changing her hair color from putrid green to a violent purple. The seal-of-a-boy whimpered and Draco thought he might have wet himself.

She tuned on her heel with a smug expression, and Draco took another swig of potion and followed the now pink-haired witch out the front door.

"We're taking brooms back, Dung, so climb aboard." Draco did so, and he and Tonks disillusioned themselves and kicked off smoothly. Draco was about 60 meters in the air when he felt a great tug behind his shoulders, accompanied by a flash of red light and a loud crack.

And then Draco was falling from his broom like a very heavy rock in a vacuum.

_Oh, Merlin, don't let me die…

* * *

_

A/N: Ok, dears, I have bad news. Unfortunately for you, I am taking a two week and a bit trip to Europe with my family, which means that while I am gone, there will be no writing, no updating, and no internet access what so ever. I appologise. I can, however, promise that an update (a good one) will be posted within three weeks of today, but most likely not sooner.

And, since the 6th book comes out in a few days, I can't say you'll all be bored. At all. I'm just worried about finding a bookstore that sells Harry Potter in English in Paris. With my younger brother in tow. Oh the agony.

This brings me to my next point. Upon the publication of HBP, this fic will become strictly AU, and most likely seem very pointless to read as you will already KNOW what happens to our characters during this summer, and Ron and Hermione will probably get busy and someone important is going to die. I have read fics before that started out wonderful, but then bent their plots over backwards to accommodate whatever plot the next book has. This annoyed me greatly, because the people lost sight of what they wanted in the first place, and just started plagiarizing J.K. Rowling. So, in closing, I would like to state that NO MATTER WHAT BOOK 6 SAYS, I WLL NOT CHANGE MY PLOT, MY CHARACTERS, OR STOP POSTING JUST BECAUSE J.K. ROWLING SAYS THAT REALLY, IT'S TIME FOR RON AND HERMIONE TO GET DOWN OR WHATEVER. This is my story, and I will not forfeit just because I have the idiocy to post this so close to a publishing date.

Ahem.

I have never been so overjoyed to see email alerts in my in-box. Really, the reviews you guys send me warm the heart. Please, please send me more!

And on a more somber note: I would like to express my deepest condolences and sympathies to anyone and everyone affected by the Tragedies in London last Thursday. There is nothing wise or profound that I can say(thoughI wish there was)other than I am truly sorry that the world has fallen to such a state where it isn't even safe to take the tube to work in the morning. Hopefully, in the years to come we will overcome such despicable acts of violence and hate and nothing of this kind will ever happen again.


	7. Chapter 7

**Metamorphosis: A Story of Maturing  
Chapter 7: Of Battles and Sleepy Kisses****

* * *

**

Tonks snapped her head around when she heard the shocked yell from behind her. Looking just in time, she saw the Dung fly off the broom and begin to plummet to the ground.

Doing a quick about face, she swooped under him, and caught his wrist in her grip, only to be shocked to feel his body still being pulled from her. Her broom was dragged against her will to the left, led by the copy of Harry she was holding.

Dung/Harry seemed to be passed out. Tonks was holding on with all her might, and when the two of them finally came to a stop above a very large, medieval style house, she pulled the body across her broom. Clutching the unconscious corpse, she nearly dropped it when she felt the skin begin to…melt? The bone structure of the face seemed to be sliding around, and the dark hair of Harry Potter was quickly changing, and not to the mousy color of Dung's hair.

No, it was turning a pale, luminescent blond. A very familiar blond.

Confused, and a little bit afraid, Tonks pulled her wand out and tried to fly back up and away from the dark and frightening house, but found her broom unable to move. Very much afraid, she tried to Apparate away, only to find that there were wards up. She was trapped, 80 meters in the air with no means of escape. Clutching the still unconscious body of the recently revealed Draco Malfoy to her, she realized, belatedly, where she must be.

Malfoy Manor.

…

Shit.

* * *

Mrs. Weasley was the first to greet Harry as he arrived at Grimmauld Place. Sweeping him into a warm hug, she fussed over him in a motherly fashion until she was eventually knocked out of the way by Ron, followed closely by Fred, George, Neville, and Ginny.

Harry's stomach gave a funny jolt when he saw her, but covered it quickly when she gave him an enthusiastic hug, much, much different from her mother's.

"It's good to see you, Harry." The others echoed the sentiments, and everyone stood awkwardly for a moment.

The awkward silence was broken by a sudden loud thumping noise and a subsequent shout.

One moment later, they were all shocked beyond belief to see Hermione Granger pulling Mundungus Fletcher into the kitchen by the ear. He looked decidedly uncomfortable.

* * *

Tonks was very, very nervous. She had her wand out in front of her and was reviewing all and any information the Auror Academy might have given her to help in this type of situation.

There wasn't any. And she wasn't that surprised, she thought wryly, how often do you find yourself pulled through the air on a broom by an unconscious body into the home of his Father, who will probably kill you in a very unpleasant way?

Hearing a crack behind her, she whipped her head around to face it, and while what she saw was what she expected, the sight of it still terrified her.

* * *

"YOU MEAN TO SAY YOU WERE OVERPOWERED BY A TEENAGER WITHOUT A WAND? AND HE'S NOW OUT UNDER THE DISGUISE OF MAYBE THE ONLY OTHER BOY MORE WANTED BY VOLDEMORT AT THIS TIME?"

Dung nodded shamefaced. Molly Weasley was fuming, and all of her children had shrunk away, remembering the full Wrath of the Weasley Mum.

But before all hell could break loose, Remus interrupted,

"Molly, now is not the time for anger. We need to get Draco back into the safe house. We have no idea what types of tracking charms Lucius will employ. He could be in their clutches already."

Molly's glare refocused on him. "You were supposed to _check_ for tracking charms." Her voice was deathly calm. "You mean to say you _didn't_ check?" Remus suddenly found the urgency he had not felt before.

"Now isn't the time, Molly. We're going to go find him now. Not to worry…" And Remus ran out, dragging the terrified looking Dung behind him, along with an assortment of other members of the order, including Arthur Weasley, Mad-Eye Moody, and the oldest Weasley brothers.

Only Mrs. Weasley noticed Hermione, frozen by the edge of the carpet, swaying dangerously, her face starkly white.

* * *

Lucius Malfoy had hoped that when Draco arrived, he would be alone, but he knew such things were unlikely to happen. However, small complications such as extra Aurors were nothing to such an experienced Death Eater.

He raised himself up to the level of the figures on the broomstick, and was only marginally surprised to come face to face with his niece.

"Nymphadora." He smirked, "So kind of you to bring my _son_ back to me."

Tonks scowled and clutched the body closer to her. "I will not let you have him." She had no idea where such resolve came from. There was no way she felt any loyalty to the boy, but there was no way she was going to hand him over to his father.

Lucius' blond hair glowed silver in the half moon. His eyes seemed to glint red and his voice was calm and absolutely terrifying. Tonks felt the beginnings of a plan in start to formulate in her head. She focused on changing her appearance to match Draco's. She felt the familiar sensation of growing slightly shorter, and her hair pulled back into her head.

As she felt her cheekbones shift not unpleasantly to a place higher on her face, she knew the transformation was finished. Merely a second had passed.

"Ennervate. Protego." Lucius' cutting hex bounced harmlessly off Tonks' shield, which she endeavored to keep up, despite the fact that she now had a shrieking, squirming boy on her lap. Tonks shot off 3 smoke and shield charms in quick succession, and turned to her passenger.

"Shut up, Malfoy, listen. I don't know how you got here, but if you want to live, follow my orders. Got it?" Draco only nodded in reply. "Where's you wand?"

Draco pulled out Mundungus Fletcher's wand, and Tonks nodded. "Disillusion yourself." At Draco's blank look, Tonks did it for him, and then, just before the rest of the smoke was blown away by Malfoy's semi-weak Wind Charm, levitated Draco over to the top of a tree. Turning her now Draco-Styled self to face Lucius, she was shocked to see even deeper lines of hatred and loathing etched into his face.

"And now, my son, we meet again. But where is your dear cousin Nymphadora?" Malfoy threw out a cutting curse which Tonks was unable to dodge, due to being trapped on the broom. She let out a yell as she felt the skin on her forearms and chest rip apart. "I suppose she fell when she woke you up, you little scum. Typical, you push away the people who could most help you." Tonks didn't bother to correct him.

Malfoy started to circle the broomstick on his levitating disk. Tonks threw up shields all around her, but couldn't block all of the curses thrown at her. She got a few good ones in, but after about fifteen minutes of this foul excuse for a duel, she was bleeding heavily and Malfoy only looked as if he had been socked in the mouth. Tonks found the trickle of blood from his mouth even more frightening.

"You betrayed me." Reducto...Protego. "You humiliated me." Sectumsempra…Protego. "You Fool." Tonks shot stunners at him…body binds…anything. Lucius was still standing, hovering tauntingly close…then far. He swooped down to her level, and looked her in the eye.

"You will pay." His eyes were level as his wand. "Crucio." Tonks' world exploded.

Knives were digging into her skin, her eyes were ripped from their sockets, her bones were breaking, and her skin was peeling of her flesh…

And then suddenly it stopped.

* * *

Draco was perched in the tree where Tonks had dropped him. His minor cuts and scrapes he had aquired were bleeding mildly, but he was distracted and horrified beyond words what he was seeing. What was Tonks _doing_? Didn't she know what kind of a wizard his father was? She should have dropped him and saved herself. Dissaparated or something. She was an idiot.

But she was still there. His eyes widened in alarm as he watched his father throw increasingly dark spells at a defenseless copy of him. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but every now and then, he caught the determined look on the face of Tonks, and to be honest, it frightened him a little. Was she willing to die for him?

Suddenly he was filled with a new emotion he couldn't place. He was angry beyond words, but not like he had been before. This anger burned inside of him in a very physical, palpable way and his fingers itched. Tonks would not die.

His father swooped on that damnable silver levitating disk, coming very close. If Draco was lucky, maybe…

No. It would be suicide. "Crucio." He heard his father say.

Draco screwed up all the strength in him and leaped off the end of the tree branch he was on before he even had time to think. He slammed into his father with a harsh thud, knocking the man off his feet and off his disk, plummeting to the ground.

Unfortunately, Draco missed the disk too. Snatching madly with his fingers in mid air, he caught the very edge of the disk with his fingertips.

Tonks, still breathing heavily and in Draco's form, couldn't see him. He was still disillusioned. She was looking around in confusion to try and see who had knocked Lucius off his broom. Seeing the heavy tilt of the disk, she called, "Draco?"

"I'm here."

"I still can't move."

"Neither can I." And Tonks began to laugh.

* * *

Remus was flying along at speeds close to the speed of sound, with several Aurors right beside him. His hair was whipping across his forehead almost painfully, but he didn't care. Objective: Save Tonks and Malfoy.

He had been terrified when they had arrived at Privet Drive only to find a highly distraught Arabella Fig, who could describe in vague detail what seemed to be a dark summoning spell, and the subsequent flight of Tonks and what she thought was Harry of to the south.

Remus was off so quickly that he almost forgot to say thank you, which was very quickly indeed for Remus Lupin.

But now the group of them had been flying for half an hour in the same direction, and was only beginning to see the all too familiar lights and glows of a duel. Somehow, they flew faster.

Remus saw the glows stop suddenly, and the unmistakable sounds of someone under the Cruciatus Curse reached his ears. The broom was being pushed to its limit, and then the sounds stopped.

Remus could see figures clearly now. One on a broom, and… and that was it.

Only _one?_ It was Malfoy on the broom, and he looked really beat up. Remus flew over to him and grabbed his shoulders. Spinning him around, he saw that he was laughing.

"Where's Tonks?" Draco was still laughing. Remus shook him. "Where's TONKS?" Then the pale skin and blond hair of Draco turned into the darker tones of Tonks, and Remus was so relieved he wrapped his arms around her and gave her a desperate hug. Kissing her crown, he nearly started to cry.

"It's ok, Remus. We just need to get back to HQ" He but his hand on the side of her face where there was a smear of blood, and looked at her tenderly.

The moment was broken by the irritated yell off in the direction of the curious metal disk hanging in the air. "You lot. PLEASE come get me off this thing." Remus pulled Tonks off her broom and onto his, then motioned to one of the other Aurors to come up from the ground where they had stopped to inspect the motionless body beneath them. With everyone accounted for, they left the dead body of Lucius Malfoy on the ground and flew off, back towards Grimmauld Place.

* * *

Several hours later found Draco running through the familiar hallways of Grimmauld Place. Having arrived, tired and shell shocked to a point of madness, he had come face to face with Dumbledore. Racing along with energy he drew from unknown reserves, he barreled along. Glancing back, he thought he saw the face of Madam Pomfrey chasing after him.

No, he was fine. He did not need medical attention. Dodging a sleeping spell, barely, he took a quick left and then a right, and jumped in past the first door. Slamming it behind him he leaned his forehead on it, listening for footsteps.

After listening for a few moments and not hearing anything, he turned around and let out a sigh of relief, only to have it catch sharply in his throat as he saw wxactly what room he had run to in his haste.

* * *

Dumbledore was quite surprised at Draco's sudden flight. He had never, in all his life, seen anyone run from their hospital beds so anxiously.

But it was nothing, really. He knew most of the story from what Mundungus Fletcher and Tonks had told him, so there was really nothing urgent about talking to Draco. He would wait until Draco was ready to explain his…choices.

In the meanwhile, Mundungus Fletcher was on probation from any important missions whatsoever. Dumbledore was amazed to find one man so incompetent that he was overpowered by a teenager without a wand on the verge of one of the Order's most important missions.

* * *

Hermione had been reading when she had been so shockingly interrupted. Lying on her stomach, she had left her hair down around her shoulders, and was quite unaware that her muggle T-shirt was riding up in the back, and was equally unaware that the front was also providing a nice view to any who was interested due to her relaxed position.

But she had become painfully aware of every single bit of this and more when Draco Malfoy had burst into her room, slammed the door, and then, just about collapsed.

And from the looks of things, he was quite aware of every bit of it as well.

* * *

Poppy swore she had seen her patient take a left, but there were too many hallways this way. Growling, she decided to resort to checking doors. She went to the first door on the right: opening it, she was marginally disappointed to find that there was nothing more than towels. Getting more irritated by the second, she stomped down to the next door, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's room.

Knock: Check: Empty. Poppy narrowed her eyes. This was getting her nowhere.

* * *

Draco's mad sprint was catching up to him. He could have sworn that he had just been looking at a very nice looking Granger lying on a bed, giving him a curious and quite astonished look, but then again, everything was starting to go blurry…there was something black and fuzzy threatening to slide over his eyes. He slid down the door and crouched down, massaging his temples. The floor was definitely spinning abnormally.

Granger suddenly leaped to her feet. She walked over to him and, without speaking, pulled him up to his feet. Scowling, she started to lead him over to a chair.

"What are you _doing_ here? I thought you were passed out in your own room? What have you done, run out of your death bed they've set up in there? Honestly, you look like you've caught the wrong end of a sleeping spell…"

Draco wasn't really listening to what she was saying. His mad dash had exhausted his last strains of energy, and there was something oddly alluring about the way her lips were moving, and in his dazed stupor, he found it difficult to concentrate on walking _and_ the fascinating way her eyes moved when she was angry, so, obviously, he stopped walking.

"What _now_? Seriously, we've got to get you back to the others. I don't know any healing…"

"No." Draco rasped. "Can't…nooowwwwwwww."

"What?" Hermione turned to face him, grabbing his forearms to steady him.

* * *

Feeling highly aggravated at this last group of doors, Poppy was banging on each with the vigor of a highly caffeinated ape. Very un-character like.

It was totally the door's fault that the stupid Malfoy boy was evading her. In her frustration, she kicked a small doorstop off the stairs, enjoying the hard thump it made as it connected downstairs with the umbrella stand from hell.

Coming to the first door of the last set hallway, she hit it three times with angry gusto. Hermione and Ginny's room. Hah. As if Draco Malfoy would be in Hermione Granger's room. She had healed too many minor curse wounds for the both of them to even think they could get along together.

"Hermione? You in there?"

"I just can't…ughhnnff" Draco's head was really pounding now. He gripped Hermione's shoulders to steady himself. There were three sharp raps on the door and his head dropped to his chest. "Urrghhh"

"Hermione? You in there?"

"Er…yeah, I am." She was going to turn him in, send him back to that demon who was going to get mad at him and Dumbledore was going to throw him out for being so reckless and his father was going to kill him and OH! his head hurt.

"Any sign of Draco Malfoy? He's run away from his medical treatment, and Dumbledore wants to ask him a few questions about WHY he was out on a SECRET mission disguised as DUNG disguised as HARRY, and if he has ANY idea how his father found him." Draco's head was spinning…the floor was up on the ceiling, what was it doing there? He wondered idly. Granger was going to turn him in.

He looked up at her just to see her open her mouth to respond that Yes, the Pratt was here, and please take him off her comfortably soft hands and back to Dumbledore and Snape who were going to eat his liver in retribution…

_Oh dear_, he thought_, not my liver_. And he did the only thing his indolent mind could think to do.

He kissed her.

* * *

"Hermione?" Madam Pomfrey rested her hand on the door knob. Hermione wasn't responding, and there were some strange noises coming from inside the room. Shuffling, and a few squeaks. "Hermione, do you need any help?" A moment passed and Hermione's breathless voice responded.

"No, I'm…I'm fine. Not in here. Sorry."

"Hermione, you sound flustered…are you sure you're alright? I'm coming in…"

"NO… no, I'm…I'm…dressing. Yeah…Don't come in, please. I'm fine."

Frustrated again by the lack-of-locating, Poppy rustled off to the next door down. Hmmph. Malfoy was just as likely to be in McGonagall's room as Hermione's. Why did she even try?

* * *

Hearing Madam Pomfrey mutter and stomp away to the next door, Hermione turned her attention to the blabbering boy who was holding onto her and swaying as if the room was spinning.

"I'm…srrryyy….thankssssss…" And then the blond haired boy collapsed, finally succumbing to the exhaustion that was plaguing him.

* * *

A/N: Ok, ok, I know that was slightly more than three weeks. And I'm sorry. We got home only to find the internet was down, and, well, I barely had time to throw this together and post it this morning. I apologize in advance for any typographical errors or GLARING inaccuracies you might stumble across. I suppose I'll go through later and re-edit this crap chapter.

But I hope you like it nonetheless and still review, even if it is to say that I've spelled "the" wrong or something. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Metamorphosis: A Story of Maturing  
Chapter 8: _Parites Absolvisti_**

* * *

Hermione had very little idea what to do with the now unconscious body of Draco Malfoy. In fact, Hermione had very little idea what to do at all. Struggling with his sleepy weight, she maneuvered him towards the bed and laid him down on his back.

Something was very, very confusing about all of this. She plopped herself down on the other nearby bed. It was very late, but she wasn't sleepy, her thoughts muddled and confused by the blond boy. Given, there had been a different feeling between them recently, not _so_ based in angry hatred, rather, dare she say it, sexual tension? But she certainly hadn't expected him to kiss her.

Not that she minded, really.

* * *

Harry and Ginny were blissfully unaware of the rare moment of confusion and panic Hermione was feeling upstairs. They were sitting awkwardly on the moth-bitten sofa, staring determinedly at anything except each other, and every few minutes one of them would utter a little _hmm…_or _well…_noise.

Then, they'd shift back to staring at their hands.

Awkward.

Then they looked up and made eye contact. Things went well from there.

* * *

Draco was enjoying a very nice, guilty fantasy. He was kissing the soft, full lips of Hermione Granger, who was wearing the exciting under-things he caught a glimpse of upon her arrival. Mmmmmm…

"Hermione…" He moaned. Stretching languidly he cracked open his eyes and was mildly surprised to see a different ceiling than usual. A glance to the left and he was pleased to find that no Ron, Harry or Neville was in sight. A glance to the right and he was frozen in place.

What had he been dreaming about?

There was Hermione, curled up like a cat, asleep with a heavy book in her hand. He could see the title between her fingers: Advanced Spell Analysis. The book had shut itself while she was sleeping, but her finger marked the place still. He took it from her hand.

_Often times when the traditional sleeper spell does not come into full contact with the subject, it will have an effect similar to intoxicating the subject. This means that while in this intoxicated state, the subject will act upon their true desires and feelings without thought to the consequences, or any of their inhibitions. An unfortunate side effect is increased drowsiness and possible narcolepsy for a short period of time. All effects will wear off after the subject has slept for two hours at the minimum, and he or she will have a spotty recollection of their actions. _

"Well," thought Draco, "That was interesting and pointless. I wonder why she was reading up on sleeping spells."

He placed the book in the patch of moonlight on her bedside table and stretched again. He felt very well rested.

Reaching down absently he pushed a curly lock of hair from its place across Hermione's cheek, tucking it behind her ear. A sudden image flashed through his head as his palm touched her cheek: kissing madly…his hands around her shoulders, her face swimming in and out of focus. "No, not in here…sorry."

The image was gone before he could grasp it fully, and he pulled back his hand as if burnt. Hissing a breath through his teeth, he watched her turn in her sleep. Before he realized what he was doing, he leaned down and kissed her softly, then turned and left the room quickly, quietly.

And Hermione opened her eyes and smiled.

* * *

Dawn found almost no one asleep in their beds. Harry and Ginny were, in fact, asleep downstairs on the couch, and Ron and Neville were no where to be found. Draco had been quite pleased to have a room to himself that night, but tossed an turned, not sleepy at all until far after the sun had come up. Hermione didthe same.

When the clocks read a more reasonable hour, Draco and Hermione found themselves on the stairs, both heading down to breakfast. They turned to the hallway, and started heading toward the kitchen when Hermione stopped short. Draco, behind her, wasn't paying attention and nearly plowed into her. Frowning defensively, he got ready to tell the stupid mudblood off when he caught the look on her face.

There was something soft in her eyes, something he hadn't really seen before. He followed her line of vision and had to catch himself before saying, "awww…"

He understood why he and Hermione had had rooms to themselves the night before. Harry Potter and the littlest Weasley were sleeping on the couch, entwined comfortably together. Harry's hand was tangled in Ginny's hair, and her arm was wrapped around his chest. Harry's glasses were askew and both of their legs were tangled within each other's.

Hermione made a shushing motion and crept past them, Draco following. Settling down at the kitchen table, Draco realized Hermione was acting much more cheerful than usual. To be precise, she was humming. She started up a pan of bacon, and waved he wand at a few bits of bread, which started to toast themselves.

"What's put you in such a good mood?" He asked, surly. She kept humming. "No, honestly. Why are you smiling?"

"Because I know something you don't know." She said in a singsong voice, flipping a piece of bacon over.

Draco just growled softly. It was much easier to be around Hermione when she was irritating. It meant the fluttery feeling in his stomach he had recently been experiencing was more smothered.

She suddenly put a plate of bacon and toast in front of him. Absently he chewed on the toast. He wasn't going to ask her what she knew. It would be humiliating.

"What is it, Granger."

"Nothing…" She sat her own plate down and started to eat. Draco was suddenly surprised to find that he didn't really mind eating with Granger the Mudblood. In fact, he was actually enjoying Hermione's quiet company.

When she was done, he took her plate before she could stand up and started to wash it. She stood there, dumbfounded as he, Arrogant Lord Draco, washed her plate. This was not the same haughty, nasty boy she had seen at school.

"Th-Thanks." Draco just nodded curtly.

"Just go." Hermione skittered out of the room like her dress was on fire. And, almost inevitably, in her haste, she hit the one and only umbrella stand.

She had never really cared that the stupid portrait cursed at her. She, being a muggleborn had often endured taunts from many sources, non the least being the boy in the kitchen.

Shouts of _Mudblood Filth_ never bothered her anymore. Really. She could ignore anything if she just tried hard enough. Wrenching the curtains shut over the wailing portrait, she sighed in dejection.

It wasn't as if she _liked_ being screamed at ever time she made a noise in the entrance hall. She wiped a tear she didn't know had fallen.

She was so preoccupied that she didn't even notice how the silver-blue eyes of Draco followed her up the stairs, thinking furiously.

_What was it? What can't I remember?

* * *

_

Harry felt like he was swimming through pudding. He felt sore in his lower back, and his legs were definitely asleep, but he felt very content. The only thing that was bothering him was the stiff poking he was enduring in the back of the head.

Twisting his head from its comfortable position buried in a mass of red hair, he turned to the less pleasing sight of Draco Malfoy, leaning over him with the expression of one who had recently swallowed a lot of burlap extract: slightly ill, but very, very excited.

"Potter. Unwrap yourself from the Weasley twat and help me!" He was waving his wand wildly, and Harry was sorely tempted to tell him exactly where to put it and go back to sleep, and he almost did. The only thing stopping his was the now shifting weight of Ginny Weasley on his chest.

"Wha…? Hello Harry." She nuzzled his neck and smiled. "What's Malfoy doing with that wand?" Harry blushed pink and looked frantically at Draco.

"_Don't tell her brothers_."

"Then help me with this for _Hermione._"

"What're you going to do for Hermione?" asked Ginny. Peeling herself from Harry she stood up and pulled her hair back.

"I'm not telling _you_. I need Potter to tell me where I can find a pensieve. I'm sure he's got one, or someone has."

"I haven't, actually. I don't think anyone here does, to be honest. And what do you need on for anyway?"

"I'm not telling."

"I've got a pensieve." Both boys turned to Ginny. "Well I do. Dumbledore gave me one after I…you know, with Tom."Harrynodded and Draco had a moment of shameful revelation. "I had terrible nightmares, and just taking the fear out of me helped. It's in my trunk."

"Let me use it. Please. I have to remember something." Ginny nodded and ran upstairs.

Harry glared at Draco. "I don't know what you're planning on doing, but it had better not hurt Hermione. I know—"

"You don't know anything, Potter. You have absolutely no idea what's going on here. I just remembered something that might make her very happy, and I need to see it more carefully."

"Then let me go into the pensieve with you."

Draco hesitated. He knew Potter might not let him even deposit the memory if he wasn't allowed to see it, but he didn't want Harry to see his memories if he could help it.

"I—alright." Harry looked startled. So did Draco. "But this doesn't mean I like you, alright?"

"Yeah, of course. I don't like you either."

Ginny pounded down the stairs, a pensieve a little smaller than the one in Dumbledore's office in her hands. Placing it on the coffee table, she looked sternly at Draco.

"If I hear that you so much as thought about looking at the other memories in there, I'll kill you. I'm not even kidding."

"No worries, Weaslette, I'm going with Potter here. I'm sure he'll protect his little girlfriend's memories for you." Ginny and Harry blushed. Draco shifted his feet awkwardly.

Flipping around his wand, he concentrated very hard on his memory. Pulling the silvery strand out, he let it drop down into the swirling mass of silver already there. Harry stuck out his hand and Draco took it, and then they both leaned into the pensieve together.

One…two…three…

Their noses touching the surface, they felt themselves falling into the memory.

The memory, which Harry was mildly surprised to see, took place in the next room.

* * *

Harry and Draco stood in the foyer of Grimmauld Place, watching another version of Draco manage to trip and fall face first over an umbrella stand shaped like a troll leg as he landed. Following the loud crash of his fall, there was another piercing screeching noise. Memory-Draco rolled over and stood up quickly, looking for the source of that terrible sound. When he finally figured it out, Harry could see the shock on his face.

There was the portrait of a woman he could recognize without a doubt as the most recent mother of the Black family. The woman in the portrait was screaming what Draco assumed to be words and as he tried to shut up the portrait, he could discern some of them.

"FOUL VILE MUDBLOOD-LOVERS...YOU DARE DEFILE… MOST _NOBLE_ HOUSE…MY BASTARD SON…TRAITORS ALL OF YOU…" and on and on she went. The shrieking was unbearable.

"MADAM BLACK! PLEASE, BE QUIET!" And she was. She looked at Draco with and an appraising eye.

"I haven't met you before. Are you a new recruit for the Order? Another one of these lowlifes Dumbledore digs up from the dredges of Society?"

Draco was highly offended, "I, madam, am a Malfoy, not some dredge, as you so kindly put it." The expression on the portrait's face changed to one of utter joy.

"At last! My darling Narcissa has conspired to save me! Quick, before anyone else comes, the spell to get me off the wall is _parietis absolvisti. _Quick! Before anyone else comes! They'll be home any minute!" Just as she finished speaking, the front door opened with a bang.

Harry gasped and Draco smiled in triumph. Maybe Potter wasn't so think as he thought. Just as the angry voice of Mrs. Weasley began to ring out through the foyer, Harry and Draco pulled themselves out of the pensieve and landed on the floor with a thud.

Draco was up in an instant.

"Do you think it'll be alright if we take it down?"

"Alright? Are you kidding? We'll be given lavish rewards from everyone who's ever met the hag!"

"We should do it now!"

"Yeah, right now. Let's go."

The two boys sprinted to the front hall, wands in hand, leaving a stunned Ginny in their wake. Harry whipped open the moldy curtains startling Mrs. Black from her sleep, and Draco pointed his wand at the shocked face of the painting.

"It is time," he said, "for you to go." Before the stunned portraid could even draw a breath to scream, the two boys together rang out:

"_Parietis Absolvisti"

* * *

_

A/N: OK OK IT'S ALL CRAP. I KNOW. But suddenly I developed a social life and an SAT prep course and ohmigawd my life just…PWSHT.

So here's a chapter to read. It's terrible, but there should only really be one more chapter after this. I'm planning on ending this before school starts, so I can really concentrate on my marks and such. The last chapter should be up within then next two or three weeks. I'm going to try and make it really good, as to go out with a bang, not like these past two crap-buckets.

Thanks to all who've been reviewing up till now, and to the rest, please keep reviewing. I love it. Even if I don't deserve it.

Also: Ten points to anyone who can tell me where the "why are you smiling" line comes from. It isn't really original, and twenty billion points to anyone who can tell me what Hermione knew and Draco didn't, if she followed the original script.


	9. Chapter 9

**Metamorphosis:A Story of Maturing  
Chapter Nine:  
In Which there are Several Kisses and  
Ron and Harry Realize that Next Year May, In Fact, Be  
Much, Much,More Painful than Previously Anticipated.**

**And, this whole bloody thing gets wrapped up and ENDS. **

* * *

Hermione didn't know why there was such a commotion downstairs. She had been comfortably resting upstairs before dinner, thinking longingly about the soft touch of a blond boy when there came a loud shout and an alarmed, yet all too familiar shriek. So many years of being Harry Potter's friend, and in the same tower as the twins had honed her reactions: within seconds she was standing at the top of the stairs, in absolute shock over the view before her. 

Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter were SMILING at eachother, and Ginny was in the corner looking happy yet bewildered. Ron and Neville were standing in the hallway to the kitchens, looking boggled, and in the centre of the room was a large picture frame, the canvas stretched across torn across with four horizontal tears.

Her eyes flew to the wall where there was a pale spot surrounded by decades of grime. She blinked disbelievingly at the implications as, for the first time in their lives, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy gave each other a high-five. Ron came out of his stupor, saying,

"Bugger…Bloody Hell…" along with a few more creative curses starting with a B. Neville seemed to be torn between shouting for joy and going to the bathroom and Harry and Ginny were busy with their own personal type of celebration. Draco looked up the stairs into her eyes and smirked.

"She's never calling you names again." No one except for Hermione seemed to hear him, and she flew down the stairs and hugged him round the middle. Somehow she knew he wasn't only talking about the portrait.

His cautious arms eventually came back around to hold her shoulders, and he sighed.

The moment was over all too soon with the indignant shout of Remus Lupin, who, upon arriving in his front hall, immediately noticed the change in décor.

"Who did it?"

"We did, Remus." Harry pulled himself with a squelching sound from Ginny's embrace and turned to face the werewolf. "Draco and I did. Well, mostly him."

For a moment, Remus looked as if he were about to cry. Then, suddenly, Draco and Harry found themselves being cuffed and hugged and hair-tousled, hearing words of thanks and praise. Draco was feeling much overcome. No one ever had said so many nice things to him in a row ever.

Awkwardly pulling himself out of everyone's reach, he shittered off a distracted, "Itwasnothingforgedaboudit" and scampered up the stairs.

Hermione followed.

* * *

Remus leaned his head against the wall where the damned portrait had hung. _Sirius would have been so pleased to see it gone. _

"Hey, Remus?"

"Yes Harry?"

"Draco actually did it mostly. I just helped him say the spell. And we used Ginny's pensieve."

"It doesn't matter. Thanks to everyone, the witch is gone. I wish Sirius could have seen it."

Harry smiled. "Me too," and wrapped his arms around Ginny

* * *

Draco couldn't really think. This was very, very strange to him, and WHAT were all those people SAYING. He was having trouble remembering why he had wanted to be so nice. People could be awfully exuberant. It was just a painting. 

He threw himself on his unmade bed and put his head in his pillow. There was a creak from the door; he didn't care to look. Footsteps and he pretended they weren't there.

He brought his arms around his ears so he couldn't hear the complaints of a second body weight on the side of the mattress, but he was all to aware of Her presence.

They sat in silence a moment, and tentatively, lightly, there was a soft touch on the back of his head. Hermione played with his soft hair for a minute, not saying a word. She bent and kissed the name of his neck,

"Why did you do it?" She whispered. Draco felt like sobbing.

"I don't know." His head buried even further in the pillow.

"Draco." Her voice was right outside of his ear, soft and silky.

"I didn't want her to ever make you cry again." The words erupted out of his mouth like one of those Christmas Popper things with the hats. Hermione didn't seem surprised.

"Thank you." They were both whispering. She lightly caressed the back of his ear, sending shivers down his spine.

The mattress heaved again and she stood up, ready to leave. With speed and a sixth sense he didn't know he had, Draco's hand shot out from around his head, grabbing her wrist.

"Don't even think of leaving, Granger."

Hermione whipped back to face him, a wicked look in her eye. "I wasn't really planning on it, Malfoy."

Draco pulled her down to his level, touching the side of her face almost reverently. Leaning forward, silently asking permission, he paused, their noses barely touching.

They kissed. Leaning into each other their hand began to wander and their breathing grew ragged. Hearts sped up and he tangled his hands in her hair.

"I don't know why, I don't know why…" he muttered.

"Sometimes, sometimes you don't have to." She replied.

And they kissed again.

* * *

Kreacher found his way down the creaky stairs after everyone had gone. He had his suspicions of what had transpired, though his black heart prayed they were unfounded. He silently crept to the wall where his mistress had hung, and, pulling back the curtains, gasping in horror when he saw she wasn't there. 

Turning, dispared beyond belief, he tripped over a wooden edge he hadn't seen before. Kneeling beside it, he flipped the torn asunder portrait over; he let out a piteous wail. His beautiful mistress had four slashes through her noble face; this portrait was lost beyond repair.

Kreacher knelt and wept savagely.

* * *

Several days later, when Hermione and Draco decided to go public (meaning their classmates) about the exact nature of the relationship, no one seemed too surprised. 

It seemed Harry had understood the ulterior motives of his portrait actions, and had taken it upon himself to get Ron and Neville warmed up to the idea. It hadn't been easy, but when Draco flatly told them to suck it up because it didn't really concern them, they seemed to be alright with it.

Now they were sitting around the fire in the living room of Grimmauld Place, Ginny in Harry's lap, Draco and Hermione on the couch, and Ron and Neville lain haphazardly around the floor. Everyone had their OWL results and mostly everyone seemed pleased. Neville was quite nervous about his grandmother's reaction to his potions mark, but he wasn't even close to surprised.

Ron was whining about having to take NEWT potions with Snape. "Another few years with the git, I don't know how we'll stand it."

"Ron, you should be respectful of your professors," Hermione said distractedly.

"Ah, well, anyway. I don't suppose it will be so bad this year, as in that Malfoy Git won't be so nasty, eh?" said Ginny, despite his half hearted rebuttals.

"We never really talked about that, did we? Well, here, Draco Malfoy, I hereby apologize for any unnecessary pranks and/or insults I sent your way. That doesn't cover all of them, but a few may have been my fault. The most recent may have been that incident on the steps? That one on the train was definitely your fault. "

"And I, too, Harry, apologize for being a git in all respects toward you and your Gryffindor sidekicks. Ow!" Hermione elbowed him in the stomach. "And what on the train? I wasn't even on the train this year."

"Yes you were," said Ron, "I remember."

"No. Professor Snape offered to take my place in Polyjuice and all so my father wouldn't end up killing me. I took a Portkey here."

"That's true, Ron, I saw in the pensieve." Ron was looking sicker by the minute.

"Professor Snape, d'you say? Oh, bloody hell…"

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"Are you saying you don't remember the train ride? Malfoy and his goons tried to ambush us and we hexed them into oblivion, since the entire D.A. was there." Harry was looking quite pale too.

"And to think, we have all next year in NEWT potions with Snape."

"Oh, Bloody Hell!"

Draco just laughed, holding Hermione tight in his arms. "Serves you right, I suppose." And he just kept smiling.

_Fin._

* * *

AN: Ok, ok, it's done. And no, I don' think there will be a sequel. I'm sorry for how badly this whole thing turned out, I'm not very talented at writing fluffy scenes; there weren't nearly enough of them. And also it feels like I just remembered I had a first half of a story. And there wasn't really enough drama on the whole killing your father even if by accident thing. I apologize. 

Maybe the next fic I do will be decent. I hope you liked reading this one, even if I don't really think it's up to snuff with some of my reviewers' work.

Which brings me to my next point: THANK YOU FOR ALL OF YOUR AMAZING REVIEWS. HONESTLY, YOU GUYS ARE THE BEST, AND I DON'T KNOW WHAT I'D DO WITHOUT YOU. : )

School's starting soon and I have to face the music, as it be. If this year goes well, who knows, maybe I'll start writing during my free time. (HA free time; sophomore year, that's funny! freaks out right now)

Please leave one more goodbye review. And thanks for reading. ; )


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